


Storm in the Soul

by The Neon Gang (clgfanfic)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: ATF Denver AU, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sniper Vin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 12:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/The%20Neon%20Gang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vin is sent on a vacation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storm in the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Let's Ride #5.
> 
> A recycle of a clg War of the Worlds story.

          _Chris and Ezra were pinned down, a sniper, well-positioned and waiting for them to line up so he could take them both out with one shot…_

 _He could see Standish was bleeding…  Buck, Josiah, and JD were moving in, taking fire from some of Gomes' men…  And he kept_ trying _to find a shot, a way to stop the sniper before it was too late, but there was no opening._

_And he wasn't going to find one in time either._

_But then he was someplace else, someplace familiar, someplace frightening…_

_Gunfire echoed around him, shattered occasionally by a scream from the wounded.  It was ugly, terrifying.  His hands shaking, he peered through his scope, trying to find the hidden sniper who had them pinned down, but he couldn't see him.  Johnson, his spotter, crouching next to him, screamed._

_He couldn't help it, he looked.  The man's chest had been blown wide open, dark eyes still open, staring at him, begging him to change what had happened, but he couldn't change it.  He couldn't change anything._

_"Damn it," he hissed, eyes stinging as he tried desperately to find the sniper as another member of his unit went down._

_But as he looked around at the men he had called his brothers, it wasn't his Ranger unit, it was Chris and Buck… Josiah and Nathan… Ezra and JD._

_"No!" he cried, his blood singing for revenge.  But the enemy sniper remained invisible, and the ghosts of the dead men lying near him were starting to close in, determined to take him with them…_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin yelped and bolted upright in his bed.  Gasping for breath, he sat, shaking, sweat running into his eyes and making them sting, or maybe it was the tears that threatened.  Using the sheet, he wiped his face, silently cursing himself.

          It had been weeks since the shooting out at the abandoned technology park, and he was fine.  The others were all fine, too.  So why the hell was the damned dream still haunting him?

          He sighed heavily.  How the hell had he let Larabee talk him into this?  Why had he agreed to join another team?  At least in the Marshal's Office he'd worked alone, but now…  Hell, now he was right back in the same situation he'd been in during his Army hitch – a team member, a sniper for another group of men who depended on him to watch their backs.

          And he'd damned near failed them, just like he had his Ranger unit.

          No, he couldn't go down that road again.  He'd done the best he could, then and more recently.

          An explosive sigh burst past his lips.  He knew it didn't help that Christmas was getting closer and closer.  Everyone else seemed so damned happy about it, and they were all trying so hard to make it fun for him, too.

          But this just wasn't a fun time for him, and watching them try just left him feeling more and more guilty.  And they were starting to notice.

          He _had_ to get his shit together, and in a hurry.  He'd seen the way Larabee was starting to watch him, and he dreaded the meeting he had scheduled with the man later today.  What was Chris going to say?  Or, worse still, what questions was he going to ask?

          Vin knew he couldn't explain his recent mood, not without breaking out some memories he'd promised himself he'd never revisit.  But they had been coming back to him in his dreams, forcing him to remember, to feel that old guilt one more time.

          Because he'd almost let it happen all over again.

          And while he'd been close to his Ranger unit, he'd never felt like they were his family; his brothers, yes, his friends, yes, but not his family.

          Team Seven was his family.  If he failed them, his family ended up dead, and that was something he knew he could never survive.  He couldn't imagine how Larabee had done it.  He knew he couldn't have; he'd lost enough in his life, any more and—

          He flopped back on the bed with a huff and shook his head.  He _had_ to stop thinking about it.  He _had_ to.  But fear held sleep at bay, and the time passed slowly, his thoughts refusing to obey his commands.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Three days later**

 

          Vin Tanner rode along a ridge above Eldorado canyon.  The former bounty hunter looked out over the rolling, pine-covered mountains, broken occasionally by rock, stands of naked aspen and poplars, and an occasional patch of snow, and nodded.  It was rugged land, but startlingly beautiful, and it felt good to be back in the mountains again, to be alone again.

          With only a week to go before Christmas, the air was crisp and cold, the pervasive scent of pine mixing with the smells of leather and horse sweat.

          He smiled.  Maybe Larabee had come up with a good idea after all.

          Glancing down at the experimental digital compass/homing beacon hanging around his neck, he grinned.  Even though no one had said anything about it, his friends were all still worried about the injuries he'd sustained just before Thanksgiving.  The device was their way of keeping an eye on him while being able to call it a "field test" of something they might one day use at work.

          Well, he couldn't really hold their concern against them, now could he.  But it was taking some getting used to.  He hadn't had anyone care about him like that since his grandfather had been alive, and now he had six of them.  It was a little mindboggling at times.

          But none of the men had any idea that he felt like he'd let them down.  But he did, and he had.

          Checking his watch, Vin estimated that he'd reach the small cabin outside of Nederland in less than an hour.  He patted the neck of the mixed-breed gelding he rode, pleased with the animal's performance.  Not for the first time he wished he was riding Peso, but the big black gelding was still recovering from a knee strain, and the rough terrain would have been too much for him right now.  The smaller, trail-smart buckskin was willing, quick, and sure-footed so they had made good time.  But then he wasn't fighting bootleggers, gun-runners, or fugitives along the way, either.  In fact, there was nothing at all to distract him except the simple beauty of the landscape, and that was more than enough for the weary man.

          He wasn't actually that far from Denver – something he had insisted upon when Larabee had demanded he take a short vacation.  No matter what, he wanted to get back in time to help finish the Christmas preparations, not to mention his own shopping.

          Thoughts about the upcoming holiday made his skin tingle.  Christmas…  He was going to have a real Christmas for the first time in many years, and he wasn't quite sure how to feel about it, or how to act.

          All of his friends, even Chris, who had every reason to ignore the holiday, had thrown themselves into the preparations.  He knew at least one reason for their enthusiasm – he'd let slip that he hadn't had a real Christmas since he was eleven; so long ago… more than a lifetime, really.

          Vin thought about the six men and urged his mount down the trail and over another section of rough shale.  Behind him, he could hear the angry calls of a mockingbird, its activity disturbed by horse and rider passing.

          "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Tanner muttered to the bird, "we're goin' as fast as we can."

          Sunlight filtering through the pines caught his attention and he pulled the gelding to a stop, staring at the sight, reveling in the sheer beauty of it.  Then the guilt began to nag at him again.

          Why, if he enjoyed working with, being with his friends, did he also long for moments like this?  Why did he still need to get away from them and spend time alone?  It just didn't seem right.  If he cared, then he shouldn't mind being around them.  He shouldn't need to escape, should he?

          Damned if he knew.

          The members of Team Seven had become so much a part of his life over the past eighteen months it was hard for him to believe he'd been alone less than two years ago.  They had all seeped into his soul somehow.  It had been slow, at first, his defenses still securely in place, but the eventual outcome had been inevitable.  Inch by inch, day by day, they had found their places within his heart until he'd realized, too late, that he'd allowed himself to become involved.  They were his friends now, his family.

          And no one had gotten under his skin quite like Chris Larabee, his boss and best friend.

          Ever since he'd met the blond, it had felt like he'd discovered some missing part of himself.  His friendship with Larabee completed him in ways he'd never experienced before, and never expected to again.  Some missing part of his soul had been returned to him the first time he'd met and held Chris Larabee's eyes.

          He didn't understand it, and he'd stopped trying to reason it out, just accepting it as fact.  It was the most important fact in his life, the one that framed everything else he did, and thought, and said.

          Still, at this moment, riding through the mountains, alone, it felt as if he were a hundred years and miles away from the crazy turns his life had taken since he'd met Chris Larabee.  _From a bounty hunter t' a federal agent, a loner t' a family man_.  He shook his head.  Who would've thought?

          The responsibilities he felt for his friends and coworkers were staggering at times, and had only grown more powerful as Christmas time drew near, the holiday bringing with it dreams and memories Vin would have rather kept buried where he'd left them.  But they'd refused to stay hidden, sneaking out in his dreams to mock his resolve.

          As Team Seven's sniper, he was supposed to protect six men who regularly put their lives on the line to protect the public – people who, for the most part, didn't know who they were or what they did, and cared even less.  Just like when he was back in the Army.

          He turned the thoughts off, calling up the simple phonic chant his grandfather had taught him while he'd lived with the old man on the reservation, forcing the pain and memories back into the cluttered corners of his mind.  He concentrated on his objective – the summit of the jagged ridge he was riding along.  At close to eight thousand feet, the land he rode through had once been trod by Utes and Cheyenne, and other tribes.  But, like so much of Indian land, it had fallen into white hands in the 1800s.  In a recent and somewhat ironic turn of events, a small group of environmentally-conscious local citizens were lobbying for state park status for the once sacred mountain and the surrounding area, something the tribes had been asking for all along.  Maybe now they would get it.

          When he reached the top of the ridge, Vin decided he would sit and spend some time not thinking.  He would clear his mind and lay some old ghosts to rest once and for all, if _he_ had anything to say about it.  Perhaps he'd even make an offering to the old, sacred ground.

          He remembered his grandfather standing on the summit of a different mountain far away from this one, a six-year-old Vin Tanner standing beside him.

          "Mountains are wise teachers," the old man had told the boy.  "If we're wise enough t' listen an' t' learn.  Y' listen, boy, 'n' learn.  Only way you'll survive in this world."

          Vin wondered if this mountain had a lesson it might share with him, and he hoped it was one of forgiveness and acceptance – of family and friends, and of finding his place among them.

          He inhaled deeply, savoring the clean air, the peace.  Then another pang of guilt crept into his thoughts.  He really _should_ be back in Denver.  He still had Christmas shopping to finish, and there were all the activities the others had planned – decorating at Larabee's ranch and Nettie's house, picking out a tree for the ranch and dressing it up, wrapping the gifts for the women and kids up at the Longmont shelter where Rain worked – and here he was, enjoying himself, alone, out in the middle of nowhere, getting nothing done.

          Not that he minded any of the holiday activity, or working as an ATF agent on Team Seven.  In fact, he respected and admired all of his teammates, especially Larabee, but he was used to having time alone, and the extended periods of time he'd been forced to spend in the city occasionally unsettled him.  And that interfered with his ability to do his job, which was why he'd allowed Larabee to talk him into this two-day trip.

          _Well, one of the reasons, anyway_.  Needing to put his thoughts and feelings in order were an equally important part of his decision to go.  He didn't want to spoil the holiday for the others, not in any way.

          Home…

          It all came down to the idea of home.  Vin hadn't felt like he'd had a home after his grandfather's death, and now he was being offered one.  But he was afraid to accept the deal, afraid if he did, he might lose it, or worse, might be the cause of his own loss.

          All his life, Vin Tanner had been a loner.  In Texas and in Oklahoma he'd refused to play into the destruction promised by the alcohol and drugs prevalent in the poor white and Indian communities he'd grown up in and around.  Indian Country was too often a reflection of the reservation experience, with abundant poverty, alcoholism, and hopelessness to steal a man's soul.

          But instead of giving in, he'd spent his time running through the broken hills, or trailing after his grandfather, or listening to the elders.  And he'd studied hard, forcing himself to answer every question his teachers assigned him, even when it meant he had to put in long hours, pouring over his books, the letters on the pages seeming to have a life of their own inside his brain.

          Then his grandfather had died when Vin was twelve, just like his mother had when he'd been only six – unexpectedly.  He was handed over to the foster care system, and his life had quickly become nothing less than a living nightmare of epic proportions.

          School had been his only escape, and he'd done his best, but without the support his grandfather had given him, his grades suffered, and he fell further and further behind his classmates.  Desperate, he'd finally run away when he was fifteen, but life on the streets had been almost as bad as life in his foster home – almost.

          But then he'd met Tom Redbear, a Comanche bounty hunter, and he'd found family again.

          Tom forced him back into school, and rode his ass, making sure the teen did his homework and stayed out of trouble until graduation.  He'd also taught the young man a trade – bounty hunting.

          An unfortunate run-in with the law while on a hunt landed Vin in front of a juvenile court judge.  Vin was just a few weeks shy of his eighteenth birthday, and the no-nonsense ex-Marine, Judge Harold Oxford, offered him a choice – County Jail, or the military.

          Tom had been an Army Ranger during Vietnam, so Vin had jumped at the chance to make his mentor proud, so he'd picked the military.

          In basic training, Vin endured the hazing and pain dished out by his drill instructors without complaint or visible anger.  The harder they tried to break him, the stronger his resolve grew to not be touched by their words, or their actions.  He rebuilt his walls, relearning the texture of each and every brick he'd first put in place while living with his abusive foster father.

          The DIs watched it all playing out, but didn't interfere, quickly gaining a respect for the young man's resolve, control, and strength – both mental and physical.  When Vin finished boot camp, they recommended him for additional training and, by the time it was all over, he was a Ranger, and a budding sniper.

          Vin smiled to himself.  The Army had been the greatest positive challenge he'd ever faced, and he'd survived it, thrived even.  He completed the Army Airborne and Ranger programs, then moved on to more-specialized weapons training.  And, along the way, he'd learned more about himself than he'd ever really wanted to face, a knowledge that had served him well in battle.

          He'd never expected to be popular with the other men in his unit; he just wanted to keep them alive and accomplish the missions they were given.  But it wasn't long before the majority of his squad had seen through his icy exterior to the man beneath.  And they learned a trick the members of Team Seven had mastered as well – no matter how neutral Vin's expression might be, he couldn't hide the truth in his eyes, not when it really counted.

          In the Army, for the first time in his life, Vin had felt like he was a part of something bigger than himself, something worth dying for.  But Army life, with its endless rules and regulations, didn't suit him, so he'd left the service after his four year hitch was up, returning to bounty hunting.

          With Redbear and other mentors, Tanner had honed his skills and quickly gained the respect of other hunters he crossed paths with.

          Just before he died, Tom introduced Vin to an old friend of the Comanche's, Jack Terrier, a U.S. Marshal.  Vin had let Terrier talk him into joining the service, mostly because he knew Tom was dying, and that was what the man wanted for him.  The older bounty hunter wanted him safe; wanted Vin to have the safety net the government provided and bounty hunting didn't, but Tanner had quickly become restless, as if sensing there was something else waiting for him.

          It was that feeling which had prompted Tanner to take the small steps that had eventually brought him closer to the men he would one day call his family.  He completed more sniper and weapons training, and started looking for openings in other agencies.  And that had landed him in Larabee's office as Chris was still pulling together what would become Team Seven.

          The first time Vin had met the blond's eyes, he'd known he belonged at Larabee's side.  He wasn't sure why, wasn't even sure it was really a good idea, but he knew he couldn't say no if Larabee offered him the job, which he had.

          Vin quickly got to know the other men on the team.  Buck Wilmington, an old friend of Larabee's, had taken to him almost immediately.  For the longest time there was something in Buck's eyes that had disconcerted Vin, but then the sniper had realized that it was gratitude.  The ladies' man was grateful Vin had, somehow, put the spark back in Chris' eyes; had given Chris back something Larabee had lost when his wife and son had been killed.  Vin still wasn't sure how, or why, that had happened, but he was glad it had, and so was Buck.

          Josiah Sanchez reminded Vin of Tom, and their friendship had quickly become deep, with paternal overtones.

          Nathan Jackson had been easy going and open, making it easy to build a rapport with the man.  Good thing, too, since as the team's medic, Vin had had to rely on the man's talents more than once already.

          JD Dunne was everybody's little brother, and Vin quickly realized he _liked_ playing the older brother for once.

          Ezra Standish had been an enigma, at first, but as soon as Vin realized that they were both hiding things from their pasts it had been easier to take the man's dictionary speech and fancy clothes.  It was all a cover, and the few times Vin had met the man's gaze, letting Standish know he saw right through it, had been enough to cement their friendship.

          Six men, all strangers at first, then friends, had quickly grown into the brothers they now were.

          Vin smiled; a band of brothers, that was what they truly were to one another.

          Given their bonds, it really shouldn't have come as a surprise when Chris had noticed his recent growing discomfort, bluntly asking if Tanner was getting bored with the job, or the company.

          "No, 'course not!" he'd replied.

          "Then what is it?"

          Vin had turned away then, pacing across Larabee's office.  He hadn't wanted to talk about it, but the more he tried to avoid it, the more Chris was going to push him until he surrendered and gave him what he wanted.

          "Vin," Chris had chided.  "What is it?"

          _Damn, damn, damn_ , Tanner had thought.  It was no use.  He might as well get it over with.  "It's jist…  Ah, hell, Chris, I could use some time t' clear m' head is all.  What with the holidays gettin' close, it feels so damned… crowded."

          "That's it?" Larabee had asked suspiciously.

          "Ain't that enough?"

          "You mean to tell me you've been acting like a damn wolf in a cage because you need some time alone?"

          Vin stiffened.  "Don't _need_ it," he'd snapped.  "I—"

          "Why don't you just take a few days off?  You've got the time."

          Tanner's blue eyes had narrowed.  "We're workin' a case, Larabee, an' 'm responsible fer coverin' yer sorry asses.  If ya think—"

          "Come on, Vin, I'm not suggesting a trip down the Colorado, just a day or two someplace close by.  We can keep an eye on Gomes for a couple of days without you.  Besides, there hasn't been any activity in over a week, and it's almost Christmas.  He's probably closed up shop until after the first."

          Vin had argued the same points in his own mind, but his responsibilities were far too great for him to just pack up and take off for a few days.  Not when they might end up going after a gun-runner with at least two former Marine snipers on his payroll.  If something were to happen to one of the team because he wasn't there…  "No."

          "I have a friend who has a cabin up near Nederland—"

          "Chris, I know y' mean well, but—"

          "Look, I'll make it an order if you want me to.  I _am_ your boss, right?  So, I'm _ordering_ you to take a couple of days off.  It'll improve your disposition, clear your head."

          "What the hell's wrong with m' disposition?" Vin demanded, his voice rising.

          Chris fought back a grin when Buck asked, "You want a list, or just the highlights?"

          Xx Tanner turned to glare at Wilmington as the ladies' man strolled in to join the pair in the office.

          Chris flashed Buck a covert thumbs up.

          "There's nothin' wrong—"

          "Vin, you've been acting like a damned bear with his paw caught in a trap the last few days.  You thought about takin' a few days off?" Buck asked the sniper.

          Vin's hand rose and fell with a wave of frustration as he glowered at the two men.  "It's a damned conspiracy, that's what it is."

          "Think of it this way," came Josiah's voice from the doorway, "we're not doing it for _you_ , we're doing it to give ourselves a vacation from all that Tanner energy and brouhaha."

          "Brew-what?" Vin snapped.

          "That right there, Junior," Buck said.

          Tanner sighed and rolled his eyes.  Why couldn't they speak English?

          Later that same day, when Ezra, JD, _and_ Nathan had all told him more or less the same thing, Vin knew it _was_ a conspiracy.  He also knew he was going to lose this battle.  They'd decided he needed a vacation, and they were determined to see that he got one – whether or not he agreed.  And he did agree with them, he just didn't want to admit it.  But if he refused to play along, they'd just make his life a living hell.

          Vin saved them the energy and the trouble, agreeing to go, provided he could get their cooperation on a few things.

          "A _few_ things?  Like what?" Larabee asked suspiciously, folding his arms over his chest in a manner that grated on Tanner's nerves.  Chris knew it did, too.

          " _I_ decide where I'm goin', which'll be someplace close enough fer y'all t' pick me up if Gomes decides t' spread any illegal holiday cheer."

          "What else?" the blond asked him.

          "'M only goin' fer forty-eight hours."

          "Sounds like you've got a place in mind," Nathan said.  "What's it going to be?"

          "Short trip up Eldorado canyon," Vin said succinctly.  Then he looked pointedly at Larabee and added, "An' yer comin' with me."

          "Me?" Chris yelped, looking surprised.

          "You," Tanner replied.  "Yer bad as I am, maybe worse.  And it's yer friend who owns the cabin, r'member?"

          "I can't be as bad as you," Larabee muttered.

          "Are.  So the same arguments that worked fer me should work fer you."

          Chris sighed heavily, and then grinned.  "All right," he agreed – too easily, Vin knew.  "A couple of days in the mountains sounds good to me, but you're going to have to do half my paperwork when we get back so it's all done by the end of the year."

          "Half?" Vin yelped, his face paling.

          "Half."

          Vin glowered at the man.  "All right, fine, y' c'n stay here," he growled.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**The next day**

          "Here you go, Vin," JD said, holding up a small black box about the size of a small cell phone, dangling from a nylon cord.  "This is experimental, so be careful with it.  It's a tracking device so we can keep an eye on your progress.  You just wear it around your neck.  It has a built in digital _and_ lensatic compass so you won't get lost."

          "I won't get lost," Vin said confidently.

          "Humor us, Junior," Buck said, patting Tanner's shoulder.

          "Besides, it's all part of that bunch of stuff we're supposed to play with and then send back with completed surveys," Chris told the sharpshooter.

          JD continued, ignoring the interruption.  "This…"  He held up a small instrument that looked like a slightly larger than usual cell phone.  "…is a high-powered radio you can use to reach us – in case there's trouble."

          Vin nodded.  "Trouble" was a two-way proposition as far as he was concerned.  With the new-fangled radio he could reach the team and, more importantly to him, they could call him if things took a turn with Gomes.

          Taking the two devices, Vin slipped the tracking beacon around his neck with a sigh, then tucked the radio into his backpack.

          "Be careful," Nathan said.  Heading into the mountains in late December sounded like anything but a vacation to him.  Still, the weather reports were calling for clear skies over the next few days.  Vin would be fine, and the rest of them would finally have the time they needed to get his presents wrapped up and put under the tree out at Chris's ranch without any worries about getting caught.

          "You'll be back by Christmas, right?" Buck double-checked.  It would be their first as a team and he was determined that they were _all_ going to spend it together, although mostly for Chris's sake.  This was the first year since Sarah and Adam had died that Larabee had been willing to celebrate.

          Tanner nodded, understanding the ladies' man's feelings.  He was looking forward to the holiday, even if it scared him half to death and dredged up far too many memories.  "I'll only be gone fer two days."

          "Where, exactly, are you planning to go, Mr. Tanner?" Ezra asked him.  "It is winter out there, you realize."

          Vin smiled at the well-dressed man.  "Chris is gonna drop me off in Rollinsville where I have a horse waitin' fer me."  He walked over to Larabee's picture window and pointed out at one of the mountains that they could see in the near distance.  "Gonna take a ride up the ridge of Eldorado Canyon and head over t' Nederland.  I'll spend the night there, an' ride back t' Rollinsville where y'all c'n pick me up.  I'm thinkin' it'll be 'bout thirty-four hours round trip, so I'll be back by dinnertime t'morrow."

          "I see," Standish said, satisfied.  Leave it to Tanner to make it back in time to eat.  The man was a veritable bottomless pit.

          "Hey, Vin?"

          "Yeah, JD?"

          "Think you could bring back some pine cones for us to tie on the Christmas tree?" he asked almost shyly.  "My mom and I used to do that and it makes the tree look really nice."

          Tanner smiled.  "Sure, just go grab me one of them plastic bags they use to line the trash cans so I have someplace t' put 'em."

          Chris watched as Vin attached the sheath for the knife he carried on these kinds of outings to his belt, then the holster for his Glock.  With that done, Tanner checked and readied the weapons as well.  He shook his head.  Well, Tanner was a federal agent, and a former bounty hunter.  It was probably better if he was armed, just in case.  After Christmas, after they finally ran Gomes to ground, he would see to it they _all_ got some much-needed vacation time.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Later that day**

          Vin shifted his weight to aid the sturdy gray gelding as he maneuvered sure-footed down a section of loose shale.  It felt good to feel the horse moving under him.  Of all the ways he'd escaped during his youth, late afternoon rides on a neighbor's horse were among his most vivid memories.  Racing the little buckskin mare along the hills, stopping to watch the sun slip over the horizon, and then racing back home again had transported him back to a simpler time in his imagination.

          As a boy he'd often wished that he'd been born a hundred or more years earlier.  Living in the Old West would have been really something, especially if he'd had friends and brothers to watch his back like he did now.

          The thought gave him an idea for a gift he needed to buy and he grinned.

          A sudden, sharp pain exploded in Tanner's skull just before he heard the crack from a rifle.  Knocked from the gray's back, Vin found himself sliding down the shale embankment.

          Trying desperately to stop his fall, he locked his knees and dug the heels of his cowboy boots into the loose rocks.  One heel caught, but it wasn't enough, and he continued forward, wrenching his ankle painfully in the process.  He picked up speed, rolling farther down the slope.

          A few moments later Vin was lying on his back, waiting for the world to stop tumbling as he forced air back into his burning lungs.  A second rifle shot rang out, the bullet sending shards of rock flying.  Covering his face to protect his eyes from possible splinters, he rolled awkwardly away.  A sharp stab of pain in his calf followed the third crack of the rifle.

          Vin ground his jaws together and scrambled as fast as his already-swelling ankle and numbed leg would permit, aiming for the cover of some evergreens growing nearby.  The drop-off, obscured in the shadows of the tall trees, caught him by complete surprise and he tumbled out into space, arms flailing.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Back at the ranch**

          "Chris!" JD yelled, bolting up out of his chair and racing to the doorway of Larabee's living room.

          The blond looked up from where he had been trying to untangle a strand of Christmas tree lights with Buck's help.

          "What's wrong?" Wilmington asked, grinning at the sight of Larabee, draped with feet of colored lights.

          "It's Vin's tracking light," Dunne stated.

          "What about it?" Chris snapped, a cold knot forming in the pit of his stomach. He'd been worrying about Tanner for almost an hour, but had dismissed the feeling as foolish.

          "His tracking signal died."

          Larabee felt his stomach clench into a tight fist.  He shrugged the lights off and rose, he and Buck following JD back to the laptop computer, which was set up on the dining room table.  The others had all headed out after Chris and Vin had left for Rollinsville that morning.  They were picking up food and presents, which had left Dunne in charge of monitoring Vin's progress while Buck carted down the decorations from the attic.

          When Chris had returned, he had a full, eight-foot spruce for them to decorate.

          Watching the blinking cursor as it slowly progressed along the topographical curves outlined on the screen had helped JD pass the time while he supervised Chris and Buck as they started in on the tree.  After hearing some of the conversation passing between the two men, he'd headed into the dining room and, bringing up a second screen, entered his gaming group and picked up where he'd left off while he kept an eye on Vin's progress.  That had been about an hour ago.

          Larabee checked the glowing computer screen.  The flashing blip was definitely absent.

          "What now?" Buck asked, the serious tone of his voice telling the two other men how worried he was.

          "Hey, what's up?" Nathan asked, walking in with Josiah and Ezra.  "Vin leaping mountain peaks with a single bound?"

          "We've lost his signal," JD said worriedly.

          The medic frowned.  "What?"  The three men joined their friends as JD typed out a series of commands.

          A few minutes later Dunne looked up, concern shining in his hazel eyes.  "Nothing.  There's absolutely _nothing_ wrong with the computer, _or_ the program.  The transmitter's failed for some reason."

          "He has the radio," Josiah commented to no one in particular.

          "So why doesn't he use it?" Buck asked him.

          "Maybe he doesn't know he's not transmitting," Nathan offered.  "Could there be something wrong with the device?" he asked JD.

          "I suppose elephants might've trampled it, but I doubt it.  I checked all that stuff over _real_ close before he left, and they were supposed to have checked it before they gave it to us to test."

          "But it is an experimental device, correct?" Ezra said.  "This could easily be another fine example of the lowest bid at work, or not, as the case may be."

          "If there was trouble, he'd call," Josiah said.

          "Unless the radio isn't working either," Buck added.

          Chris paced as he asked, "Can you call up the topographical map and show me _exactly_ where his last transmission came from?"

          JD nodded and hunched over the keyboard.  Less than a minute later, the screen shifted, showing a section of a three-minute map with a stationary blinking cursor marking Vin's last known position.

          "He made good time," Buck commented when he saw how far Tanner had gotten already.

          "That's pretty rugged terrain.  Lot of things could happen out there.  He's what, about an hour from Nederland?" Nathan asked the others.

          Buck nodded.  "What're you thinking, Chris?"

          Larabee paused, but couldn't bring himself to voice his worst fears.  He shrugged and huffed out a sigh.

          "Do you think Mr. Tanner has met with an accident?" Ezra asked the man.

          Chris nodded.  "Maybe."

          "I really don't think it's equipment failure," JD said, his gaze meeting and holding Chris's, "unless it got damaged somehow."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**A couple of hours later**

          It was almost dark when Vin awoke.  His head and leg throbbed in painful harmony, his chest burned, and a general ache everywhere else made his return to consciousness about as unpleasant as it could be.  Checking the position of the sun, he estimated that he'd been unconscious for nearly an hour.  _Too long_.

          Somewhere in the back of his mind, the eight steps of survival began to drone just like when he'd heard Sergeant Sampson drill them into him during his Ranger training.

          One:  size up the situation.   _Purty piss poor_ , Vin concluded, _but far from bad, at least fer now._

          He wanted to survey the area for whoever had shot him, but the second step of survival interrupted: undue haste is unhealthy.  The immediacy of his injuries made a search impossible, so he inventoried.

          Ankle: wrenched, but not broken.  The cowboy boots he was wearing had held the swelling in check so he left it alone.

          The wound in his upper calf had dumped what looked like a lot of blood onto the ground, and he moved slowly, away from the pooled liquid, which he covered with a few handfuls of loose dirt and some pine needles, spreading the debris out evenly to – hopefully – keep his attackers from finding him too quickly.  The cold weather was aggravating the problem, thinning his blood and making it harder for the wound to clot.

          At least he was still wearing his backpack, which held a first aid kit and the radio.  He smiled thinly.  It was too late for a chopper to fly in and get him tonight.  One way or another, he was stuck until morning, but if he didn't get the bleeding stopped he wouldn't last that long.

          Leaning up against the side of the cliff, with a rocky shelf above him to hide him from sight if anyone looked down from where he had fallen, he shrugged the pack off with a grimace and removed the first aid kit.  Then, using his knife, he cut his jeans from ankle to the knee along the seam, peeling the denim back off the entry wound.  There was no exit wound.

          "Great," he breathed.

          His hands trembling slightly, Vin opened the plastic box and removed the bottle of povidone-iodine.  Pouring it over the seeping opening caused him to suck in a sharp breath.  When the wave of pain subsided, he removed several of the individual dressing pads, opened them and pressed them against the injury, hoping the force would be enough to stop the flow of blood.

          He was down to the last of the dressings before the bleeding finally stopped, and he tied the compress bandage down tight over the wound, hoping he wouldn't have to make any long hikes.

          His inventory continued.  Hips were fine.

          He probed his abdomen, finding it bruised, but there were no internal injuries as far as he could tell.  That was good.

          _Ribs?_   He touched them gently.  "Ahhhh," he hissed.  _Bruised good, maybe cracked… damn_.  And they'd just healed up from the pre-Thanksgiving shooting!

          Opening his jacket, he unbuttoned his thick flannel shirt and carefully pulled the blue thermal tee-shirt up to find a large, purple bruise spreading along his right side.  _Well, at least it's not in the same place as before_.

          Rest of his upper body was fine, and his back seemed okay.

          Eyes:   _fuzzy_.

          Ears:   _ringing_.

          Neck: _feels like somebody tried t' twist it off_.

          He gingerly probed the side of his head, just above his left ear, with his fingertips and they came away sticky with blood.  A graze this time; he'd hit his head in the fall when he'd been shot in November.

          Maybe this fall had just aggravated his injuries from the earlier one.  Could he have a concussion?  What were the symptoms?  He'd definitely lost consciousness, and there was a headache slamming against his temples…  Tanner's teeth chattered, scattering his thoughts.  He forced himself to get back to the business at hand.

          Third step of survival: remember where you are.  He glanced around.  He'd been about an hour away from Nederland and the cabin, now he was about a hundred and fifty feet below that last position – at least.  More importantly, he was in the open, although the overhang above him would probably hide him if someone was looking down from above.  Still, he couldn't stay out in the open.

          _Past time t' get movin'_.

          Reaching for the compass/homing beacon hanging around his neck, he managed to grab it before a wave of nausea forced him to lean back.  Holding the device up, Vin scowled at the smashed face.

          "Ah hell."

          Closing his eyes for a moment, he concentrated on slowing his breathing, and then tried to gently push the queasiness away, but it refused to go and he bent over, his stomach emptying.  When he could rise again, he sagged back against the cliff face and closed his eyes, wishing he had the strength to dig his canteen out of his pack so he could rinse his mouth.  He shivered again and forced his eyes open.

          Survival, step four: vanquish fear and panic.  Easier said than done, but what other choice did he have?  He had to find shelter.  Not only might the person, or persons, who had taken a shot at him show up to see what they'd hit, but the temperature was dropping rapidly.

          _Sun's just set_ , he concluded, noting the scattering of stars twinkling above him in a pale, violet sky.  And clouds were building in the west.  He thought about the borrowed gelding, and the tent and warm sleeping bag tied to the back of the animal's saddle.  But there was no use wanting what you didn't have.

          Sitting up as carefully as he could, Vin repacked the first aid kit in his backpack and then pulled out the canteen.  He rinsed his mouth, then put it back.

          Reaching into his rear pocket, Vin tugged his handkerchief free and tied the bloody gauze pads up in it.  The ground was too hard to dig a hole to bury the materials, but he hobbled over to a nearby pine tree and tied the handkerchief to the underside of one of the boughs so it would be hidden from view in case the shooters arrived, and away from many of the curious noses of the local inhabitants.

          _The others have got t' be worried_ , he knew, glancing around.  _Ah hell, I've got a damned radio!_

          He dug into the backpack, finding and removing the second black box.  He opened it.  Inside was the small two-way radio and it appeared undamaged.  He turned it on and listened to the static.  Glancing around, he wasn't sure if it was the ravine he was in that was blocking the transmission, or if the radio itself had been damaged internally somehow.

          "Figures," he muttered, shoving it back into his pack.  The others had to know something was wrong if his beacon had cut out, so they'd be ready to come looking for him as soon as they could in the morning.  The certainty with which he knew that was both frightening and far more comforting then he'd ever imagined it could be.  "Jist don't be late," he told them, then shipped the pack over his shoulder and started off.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "I don't think the radio's working," JD grumbled.  "What good is this stuff if you can't use it?"  No one bothered to answer – two hours of waiting had left them all on edge.

          Chris turned and stared at Dunne.

          "What?" the youngest member of the team asked, afraid he might have inadvertently angered the man.

          " _Why_ wouldn't the radio work?"

          JD's brow furrowed.  "Well, I guess the most obvious answer would be it's broken, like the tracking device."

          "What else?"

          The young man's brow wrinkled deeper, then smoothed when he finally realized what Larabee was fishing for.  "I suppose there might be some sort of interference, too."

          "That's it!" Buck said, moving swiftly to the computer.  He tapped the screen emphatically.  "See?  Look.  Vin was here, right?"

          JD slid back into his chair and looked.  "Yeah," he agreed, not sure what had the ladies' man so excited.

          "JD, look at this," Wilmington insisted.

          Dunne leaned in closer to the screen and Larabee joined him, peering over his shoulder.

          "A ravine," Chris said a moment later, nodding.

          "If he ended up down there, it could explain the radio silence," Buck said.  "I don't think a signal could get out; it's too steep."

          Larabee nodded.  "He's down there.  Don't ask me how, but I can feel it.  And he's in trouble."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin limped into the cover of the trees, the fifth step of survival whispering in his ears:  improvise.  He actually knew what he was looking for, and it wasn't too long before he smiled weakly and hobbled over to a large pine tree that fit the bill.  In years when the summers were dry and the winters particularly hard, the local deer population resorted to eating the evergreens to stave off starvation.  The trees, stripped of their lowest boughs, still sported long, thick limbs just out of reach of the animals, some of which had grown back to their full length as the deer were hunted out or supplemented with hay air-dropped by concerned State Park officials.

          Pulling up one of those long boughs and ducking beneath the lowest branches, Vin found himself in a perfect, if short, ring of space, protected by the thick pine boughs.  Lowering himself to the ground, he was relieved to find it almost dry.  Interweaving the prickly smaller branches above him created a snug temporary shelter.

          When he finished, Vin slumped back against the trunk of the tree and panted, trying to catch his breath while not drawing in much air at a time.  Along the peripheral rim of his vision, blackness began to draw a tighter net around his consciousness.

          He shook his head.  _No.  I can't pass out now_.

          Reaching up, he pushed the hair off his forehead.  He was sweating, but his skin felt cool and clammy.  _Ah, hell, ain't that a sigh of shock?_

          The sixth rule of survival stated itself with authority: value living.  Vin did, and he quickly set his mind to recalling everything the _Armed Forces Survival Guide_ had said about shock.

          He closed his eyes.  It was getting harder to concentrate, but he forced himself to focus and remember.  And then the DI's voice suddenly became clear in his mind.  Early symptoms of shock included restlessness…  _Yeah, got that one_ , he thought.

          _Rapid pulse?_

 _Check_.

          _Pale skin?_   Tanner almost giggled.  He'd always thought of himself as a pale-skinned Indian, being a quarter Kiowa on his mother's side.

          "That does it," he mumbled aloud, "if 'm ready t' laugh at that, I _have_ t' be in shock."  _An' 'm definitely cold an' clammy an' short 'a breath_ , he acknowledged silently while he waited for a chill to subside.

          He contemplated building a small fire in the shelter for warmth.  He needed to make sure he didn't add to his problems with a case of hypothermia.  The temperatures would drop into the upper 20s or low 30s, and the wind had begun to pick up, whiffling through the small space, first from one direction, then from another.

          That was a bad sign, he knew.  The weather was changing.  And, given the clouds he'd seen earlier, he guessed it meant some snow had snuck past the models the network weathermen used to forecast the next couple of days.

          Having convinced himself it was necessary to build the fire, Vin reached for his backpack, but paused when he caught the sounds of two men moving through the trees.

          "Damn," he breathed, listening to them draw closer.  He could clearly hear two voices, but their words were lost to distance and the wind.

          _So much fer a fire_.

          Vin reached to ease his Glock out of its holster, but found the weapon was gone, probably lost in his mad tumble down the shale slope.  He settled on the knife.

          A giggle made a second attempt at bubbling over Tanner's lips as his favorite rule of survival, number seven, flashed through his mind: act like a native.  Remembering how his grandfather had told him about the Plains Indians willing themselves to blend into the tall grasses while they waited for the grazing herds of mustangs to wander close enough to lasso one, Vin willed himself to merge with the old pine and disappear.

          He listened.  The voices drew progressively louder until they passed by him, and finally faded into the gathering darkness.  Only then did Vin allow himself to relax again.  If he could just stay where he was, Chris and the others would find him in the morning.  They would start at his last known location after first light and, if they could find where he'd taken his fall, should have no trouble following the signs he'd left for them.

          He shivered.  It was getting progressively colder, but movement and a fire were too dangerous.  He'd just have to tough it out and hang on until daylight.

          Reaching up, he quietly unzipped his jacket, opened his shirt collar, and loosened his belt.  He didn't want to sweat if he could help it; the moisture would steal away his body heat.

          Now, what else was he supposed to do to treat shock?  His head was elevated, and he tucked his hands under his arm, hoping it wouldn't get so cold that he'd need to worry about frostbite.  The mild nausea was still with him, but he hadn't eaten since before he'd left Rollinsville so there was nothing left for him to get rid of.

          Glancing at his backpack, Vin considered trying some water, but if it made him sick, he might give his location away.   _Pass_ , he concluded.   _Last thing I need is a case of the heaves givin' m' location away_.

          Needing to concentrate on something to keep himself awake, Vin settled on a list of Chris Larabee's most annoying habits.

_He's a damned squid…_

_He's the only man I know who c'n read m' mind…_

_So why don't y' ever listen t' me?_

_Told y' this was a bad idea, didn't I?  But no, y'all knew what was best…_

_Ah hell, probably was fer the best…_

_Jist hope y'all 're gonna come get me t'morrow…_

_This was gonna be m' first real Christmas since I was a little kid, y' know… took me weeks t' figger out what t' get all 'a ya… wish I was back at the ranch helpin' y' with the tree an' such…  Shit, guess 'm not gonna get those pinecones fer JD.  Sorry, kid._

_Hey, Chris, if y' c'n hear me… thanks fer giving me back somethin' I guess I thought I wasn't s'posed t' have – family.  Means more t' me 'n I'll ever be able t' say.  But I guess y' already know that._

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Standing at the window, looking out at the night, Chris tugged at his itching earlobe and sighed, deciding it was time to check with JD.  He turned and started past the sofa in the living room, smiling encouragingly at Buck.  "You okay?"

          The ladies' man nodded.  "Just hope he's all right out there.  Damned storm came up out of nowhere…"

          Chris's head dipped.  "Yeah, I know what you mean," he said softly.  But he knew Vin was alive.  In trouble, but alive.

          Larabee cast a worried look at the other sleeping men scattered throughout the room.  Knowing that they were in for a long night of waiting, Nathan, Josiah, and Ezra had quietly stolen off and, taking the two sofas and a chair, had gotten comfortable and finally fell asleep.

          When Buck had found them there later, the ladies' man didn't have the heart to wake them.  Instead, he'd taken extra blankets from the hall closet and covered the three, leaving them to sleep.  And, after adding a log to the flames in the fireplace, began his own vigil from the unoccupied end of the larger sofa.  Chris had come in to join him about a half hour ago.

          JD had stayed with the computer and the radio, just in case Vin tried to contact them.  When he had grown tired, he leaned over and rested his head on his folded arms, resting on the tabletop, and fell asleep.

          Chris had been busy with arranging for them to fly out to Vin's last known location in the morning, but once he finished with that, he had split his time roaming back and forth between the living and dining rooms.  Never good at waiting, Larabee knew he was probably driving his friends crazy, but he just couldn't sit still and do nothing, not with Vin out there in trouble.

          Larabee smiled apologetically at Buck, and headed off to wake JD.

          Wilmington watched him go, worried about how Chris would take the news of Vin's death, should things go badly for the man.

          Tanner could sometimes be a pain in the butt, but he was their pain and, damn it, Wilmington didn't want to lose him.  For whatever reason, Tanner had touched something deep inside of Chris, bringing Larabee back to life.  And even if the stubborn blond wouldn't want to admit it, Chris relied on Vin's quiet strength and steady determination to keep his world grounded.

          Buck suspected that what Chris had found in Vin was the family he'd denied himself since his wife's and son's deaths.  He heard Larabee stop by the front door, pausing without exiting.  Perhaps Vin was more than a friend, more than family, he decided.  He and Vin were close, and the ladies' man considered himself one of the sharpshooter's best friends, but Chris's relationship with Vin was something more, something deeper.  There were times he wished he understood it better – like when they appeared seconds away from killing each other, only to shift gears and move on, joking and congenial again – but then, he usually wished he understood one of the two men almost all the time.  Still, whatever bond the two men shared, it was obvious that it was precious to both of them.  He just hoped they could find Vin and bring him home for Christmas.  Chris had already suffered enough loss in his life, and the last thing he needed was some more.  Buck seriously doubted Chris would survive it this time.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Anything?" Chris asked Dunne softly.

          JD jerked and sat up, rubbing his eyes as he replied, "What?  Oh.  Uh, not a peep…  I hate this," he added in a whisper.

          "I'm not thrilled about this myself.  I never should've pressed him into—"

          "We _all_ talked him into it, Chris.  We all decided Vin needed a couple of days away from the city, so don't blame yourself, okay?"

          Larabee smiled his thanks to the younger man.  "I've got the chopper lined up for the morning.  If we leave at dawn just after sunrise, we'll be at Vin's last known location by the time the sun's really up."

          "Can we all go?"

          Chris hesitated for a moment, then nodded, adding, "If there's room; otherwise you'll wear a path in my carpet, pacing between here and the living room. To tell you the truth, I'm surprised Buck hasn't tied me down yet."

          "The idea's crossed our minds, more than once," JD said with a thin smile.  "But right now I think it'd be pretty hard to pin any of us down."

          "Yeah," Chris agreed.  "Look, why don't you go crash in the guest room.  I'll sit with the computer for a while."

          "You sure?"

          Chris nodded.

          JD stood and stretched.  "Come get me if you hear anything."

          "I will."

          Dunne reached out, giving Larabee's arm a light pat as he passed, heading for the guest room and some much-needed sleep.

          Chris dropped down onto the chair and sighed heavily.  _Damn it, Vin, you better hang in there.  You hear me?_

_I've got something special for you for Christmas and I damn well better get to give it to you._

_Trust me, it's something you want.  But you've got to be here to get it.  So find someplace to hole up and hang on until we can find you, please._

          He reached out, running his finger over the touch pad to bring the map back up on the screen.  Willing the homing beacon to reappear accomplished nothing, so he leaned back and stared at the screen until it went blank again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Very early the next morning**

          Vin's head jerked up, a vise of unsettling agony tightening around his skull and causing him to moan softly.  He'd been sleeping.   _Stupid move, Tanner_ , he chided himself.

          The wound in his leg burned with an unending fire, and it was getting harder to breathe.  Checking his watch, he found the face distorted and unreadable.  He closed his eyes and then tried to refocus, but the only thing he found on the glass face were images from his past, reflected back to him in the dim light falling through the pine boughs.

          The moon was falling!

          He gasped, squinting through the higher branches, watching as the white descended lower and lower…  He blinked.

          Snow.  It was just snowing.

          Holding his wrist with his other hand, he forced himself to stare at the watch face until a time emerged – 0415.  Chris and the others would be leaving at first light.

          _Come on, concentrate_ , he chided himself.  _Dawn, when is it?_

 _'Bout 7:30… three hours, then time fer 'em t' find me, so… four, maybe five hours t' go.  Piece 'a cake_.

          The snow, heavy with moisture, collected on the branches of the pines, weighing them down and Vin watched as the boughs he sat under drooped lower, closing in around him.  He fought back an urge to bolt from the cover, shaking his head.  This was _not_ Amarillo.  This wasn't a closet, or a storm cellar; his foster father was nowhere around.

          He forcefully remade the image – a sweat lodge, warm and safe.  He closed his eyes and felt the call of sleep.  _No, damn it, stay awake_ , he commanded himself.

          _Piece 'a cake_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**7:20 a.m., Larabee's ranch**

          The members of Team Seven sat or stood in Larabee's living room, trying to force down yet another cup of coffee.

          "Chris, Search and Rescue should be here soon.  Why don't you sit down?" Buck suggested pointedly.

          Larabee shot his friend an indulgent look.  "Because I've got enough caffeine and adrenaline in my system to give Vin a run for his money," he explained.

          Josiah smiled.  "I just wish they'd hurry.  I'm getting too old for this kind of waiting."

          Nathan grinned.  "We all are."

          "I looked it up online," JD said distractedly as he peered out the window, staring out at the mountain where Vin was waiting for them.

          "What's that?" Buck asked him.

          "Sunrise today's at 7:42."

          "Oh," Wilmington said, looking at the dark circles under Dunne's eyes.  "Well, that's only twenty minutes."  A knock at the front door ended the conversation.

          Larabee stalked over and opened it.  He smiled when he recognized the man standing outside – Jake Carmell, a Search and Rescue pilot.

          "You and your men ready to go?" Carmell asked the blond.

          Larabee nodded.  "More than."

          "Let's roll, then.  I've got a chopper waiting for us, a big one, since I thought we might have to winch your man out, and that's the only way you're all going to get in."

          Ezra turned slightly pale as he and the others reached them in time to hear Carmell's comment.  Nathan patted the dapper man's shoulder reassuringly, knowing Standish wasn't thrilled with heights.  "You can stay on-board.  It's not likely—"

          "I'm going, Mr. Jackson, I assure you," Ezra stated, and no one argued with him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**8:00 a.m., In the air**

          The ATF agents sat along the sides of the old Bell UH-1 Iroquois chopper.  Larabee scanned the faces of his men.  Buck was checking a printout of the topographical map JD had had up on his computer screen.  Josiah sat quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor of the helicopter, probably praying.  Ezra and JD talked quietly, and Nathan rummaged through the first aid kit he was holding, reassuring himself that everything was in order.  It would be a forty-five minute flight, slower than they anticipated due to the heavy moisture in the air, but at least the snow had stopped.

          Chris cleared his throat and five heads turned to stare at him.  "I know we're going to find him," he said over the noise of the engine.

          "Damn straight we are," Buck agreed emphatically.

          "But with the snow last night…"  He studied his hands for a moment before continuing.  "It's going to be harder to track him."

          "We'll find him," Nathan said.

          Buck smiled thinly.  "I've never told you, but you don't have to worry, I'm part bloodhound."

          Chris returned the man's grim smile.  "Glad to hear it."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 

**At the same time**

          The two men moved silently through the pines, stopping occasionally to survey the landscape now covered by several inches of heavy, wet snow.

          "You sure he's here?" the taller of the two men asked, his face red from the exertion and the cold.

          "I'm sure," his companion replied.  Removing his camouflage-colored baseball cap, he pushed his sweaty blond hair off his forehead.  "I know I hit 'im – twice.  Damn half-breed bounty hunter probably crawled off and found himself a cave or something, but we'll find him."

          "Then what, Hank?"

          "Then we can have us a little fun, Daryl, just like we did down in Gallup.  You remember that ol' Indian we found that night?"

          Daryl grinned and nodded.  "Yeah, sure was funny, watchin' him runnin' along the freeway buck naked.  That trucker sure as hell didn't expect to hit a naked Indian that night."

          "Old fool should've run the other way," Hank said.  "He was like a damned rabbit, headin' for the headlights like that."

          The pair snickered softly.

          "Come on, let's go find that damn squaw," Hank directed.  "Fucker hunted me once, put me in prison down in Arizona; he's gonna pay for that."

          "What're you goin' to do?"

          "I'll come up something, don't you worry."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin sat, his back pressed against the tree trunk, arms wrapped tightly around his legs, forehead resting on his knees.  Shivering, he concentrated solely on remaining awake.  It was slowly growing light.  Chris and the others would be there in an hour or so and he had to stay awake until they got there.

          _How'd I let this happen?_ he questioned himself.

_How'd I let Larabee talk me int' leavin' when I knew better?  Then I rode right int' an ambush… couldn't stop m'self from slidin' down that damn embankment… an', t' top it all off, I stepped off the side of a fuckin' cliff!_

_This is gonna make fer a helluva Christmas.   How could I screw up a two-day vacation?_

          Above the sound of his own breathing Tanner heard the crunch of snow that warned him something or someone was nearby.  Looking up, he focused on the sound, willing other distractions away.

          It was a deer, a young doe who had gotten caught before she could get down out of the mountains before the snow hit.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The two hunters stood next to a large pine, silently watching a young doe as she moved through the trees.

          "Come on, Hank," Daryl said, "it's just a doe.  What d' you care about her?"

          "Look at her, Daryl," Hank hissed, his attention riveted on the animal.

          They watched as the deer cautiously approached one of the larger pines, her neck stretched out, nostrils flared, testing the air.  She shook her head from side to side, tail flicking up to reveal two pure white flanks.

          "What's she doin'?"

          "She smells something she don't like," Hank whispered.  "You think maybe she's found our bounty hunter?"

          The deer stopped, her large brown eyes watching one evergreen with suspicion.  She cocked her head, snorted, then dipped her head and walked off.

          "Look, see?" Hank asked his companion, his voice dropping to a whisper as he pointed to a small puff of steam that curled up from the snow-covered boughs.

          Daryl shrugged.

          "He's in there, and he's still breathin'," Hank said, his face twisting into a sadistic mask of pleasure.  Lifting his rifle to his shoulder, he aimed at a spot several feet above the lowest branches and squeezed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin stilled, willing the deer to move on with his mind.  He didn't know if it would work, but he didn't want the animal giving away his location if the shooters were still looking for him.

          He knew that in the mythology of some Native people, Deer symbolized gentleness, the power to touch those who had been wounded in heart or mind.  When Deer came, she carried a gentleness of spirit that healed all wounds.  Vin wondered briefly if she wasn't asking him to accept the new home he'd found; to accept the others as the family they were.

          She could be warning him that he wasn't willing to love himself enough to let his old fears go?

          Or was he protecting his fears from the others?  No, it was the others he feared.  It was too confusing in his present condition, and Vin tried to turn off the meandering thoughts.

          Love was the medicine of Deer, love and compassion, he concluded.  _Fear can't live where love an' gentleness are_ … unconditional love, like what he felt for Chris, and Larabee for him.  It was a weird feeling, to connect with someone like that, and he probably wouldn't have thought it possible if it hadn't happened to him. But it had happened.  One look and he knew he'd found a friend, a brother he knew would always be there to watch his back.

          The animal moved off and Vin let out the breath he'd been holding in a long sigh.

          An explosion in the boughs above him sent huge clumps of snow raining down on him and Vin lunged painfully, pressing himself flat against the cold ground.

          So much for gentleness.

          "Hey, Tanner!" a masculine voice called.  "Come on outta there, boy!"

          "Ah hell," he breathed, then ground his teeth together, his eyes narrowing to thin slits.  They knew his name.  Old bounties?  Some of Gomes's men?

          "Now, _squaw_ , or we start shootin' up that pine 'til it's kindling."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          From across the chopper, Nathan gave Ezra a thumbs-up, then stepped clear of the open door.  Each of the ATF agents descended on ropes connected to a winch inside the Huey.

          When they reached the ground, they quickly detached their lines and the chopper swung off to the south, heading for a small clearing three minutes away where Carmell could wait until they located Vin.

          Since they had no idea what was going on, Larabee had insisted that he and his men conduct the search for Vin.  There was no reason to risk the lives of the Search and Rescue crew if this was Gomes, or one of their other cases, come back to haunt them.

          The others followed Larabee as he led the way to the location of Vin's last transmission.  Standing there on the ridge, they surveyed the beautiful, rugged terrain around them.  There were millions of places for someone to hide, or disappear.  Chris shook off the negative thoughts and glanced back at Buck, who, it appeared, was thinking the very same thing.

          Movement in the trees upslope had the agents dropping automatically into defensive postures, their weapons coming up in their hands as they prepared for a fight.

          With a snort, Vin's gray gelding stepped out of the evergreens, his ears pricked forward as he nickered at the humans.  The animal took a tentative step closer, then stopped, unsure if the men were friends or not.

          JD straightened and walked slowly toward the animal, talking softly.  The horse watched him, snorting and nodding its head as he approached.

          When he reached the animal, Dunne gathered up the trailing reins.  A quick inspection revealed a perfectly healthy, if somewhat nervous, horse.  Vin's tent, sleeping bag and saddlebags – full of food and equipment – were all undisturbed.  Then the younger man scowled.

          "Steep embankment," Josiah said, looking down at the disturbed rocks on the down-slope side of the trail.

          "I'll go take a look," Buck said, and started down, slipping and sliding.

          "Oh shit," JD hissed.

          "What is it?" Chris asked, stepping up to join Dunne and gently patting the gelding's neck.

          JD had stepped around the animal and found a small drop of blood on the gelding's neck.  He held up a blood-smeared fingertip, saying.  "Trouble, I think."

          "Hey, I've got something!" Buck called up from below, causing JD to jump.

          "Easy," Chris said, patting Dunne's shoulder.

          "That's all right.  Next time I'll just put a bell around his neck so I know when he's coming."

          "I'll remember that," Larabee replied with a tight smile.

          "Come on," Wilmington called again, waving for them to hurry.  "I found something."

          They each made their way down to the bottom of the shale embankment, joining Buck and following him into the trees where the ladies' man crouched down in an area that was still basically snow-free, the tightly-growing tall pines sheltering the ground.

          "What is it?" Nathan asked, glancing around.

          "Looks like Vin might've taken a tumble down that hill and then went over the side here."  He pointed out the prints he'd found, and the marks where it looked like someone had tried to stop, but hadn't been able to do so in time.

          Nathan and Josiah both leaned over the edge of the overhang, looking for Vin, but there was no sign of him.

          Chris squatted down, touched the ground and then rubbed at the blood on his fingers so Buck could see it.  "Maybe he didn't fall."

          Ezra stepped up to join the pair, but still kept a fair distance from the edge.  "What's going on?"

          Chris showed him his bloody fingertips.

          "I found some more blood on Vin's horse, too," JD informed the ladies' man softly.

          "I'm going down to see if I can find anything," Buck said, standing.

          Chris nodded.  "Be careful."  He looked over at Nathan and Josiah, adding, "You two cover him, just in case."

          Chris, Ezra and JD anchored the ladies' man as Buck used a coil of knotted line to make an orderly descent over the side.  At the bottom, he found Vin's Glock and held it up for the rest of them to see.

          "We're going down," Larabee stated, then knotted a second coil of line to the first and anchored it around a trunk of a pine.  It was twenty or twenty-five feet down but only took them a few minutes to descend with the aid of the knotted length of nylon rope.  Due to the steepness of the overhang, and the trees that grew out of the cliff edge at a sharp angle, some of the ground below was still almost snow-free.  Buck scouted ahead to see which direction Vin had taken.

          Nathan turned a frightened gaze on Larabee when he found the pool of blood, uncovered by several sweeps of his gloved hand when he'd spotted the disturbed ground.  Chris nodded and set out, a look of grim determination on his face.

          A loud crack from a rifle shattered the silence and the agents dropped to the ground.  They lay for a moment, setting the direction and distance, then rose and headed out at a fast trot.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          " _Now_ , squaw," the voice commanded.  "Crawl on outta there, nice an' slow."

          Vin knew his options were limited.  He could stay where he was and get shot when they carried through with their threat, or he could try to escape out the far side of the boughs, but with his leg in the shape it was, he doubted he'd get too far before they shot him down.  The last option seemed the only reasonable one – do what they wanted and hope he could find an opening for escape.  As long as he was alive, there was hope.

          Not the three best choices he'd ever had, but not the worst either.

          Being as careful as he could with his injured leg, Vin moved out from under the boughs on his hands and knees, the two men snickering as he did.

          "See, what'd I tell you, Daryl.  There's our squaw now.  He even knows when it's time to crawl, don't you, Tanner?  Stand up, bounty hunter."

          _Guess that answers that one_.  Tanner fought his temper down and tried to stand, but the injury and the stiffness from a night spent on the ground made it impossible.

          Hank stepped forward and grabbed Vin's jacket, jerking him upright.

          Stifling a grunt of pain, Tanner planted his feet, but was unable to stop himself from swaying slightly as a bolt of molten agony shot up his calf.

          "Looks like you were right, Hank," Daryl said.  "You got 'im a couple times."

          Hank nodded proudly.  "Should've put that leg wound higher, would've made it easier t' track him down."

          "You remember him, bounty hunter?" Daryl asked Vin.

          Tanner met the man's question with an icy blue stare that prompted the bigger man to take an involuntary step back.

          Hank noticed the look, too, but he was unwilling to turn back from the murder he'd been planning since he'd spotted Tanner riding along the ridge.  It was God's gift to him, and he planned to enjoy his revenge.  Too many memories of pain and suffering at the hands of two Apache inmates at the State prison in Casa Grand, Arizona had blinded him to the dangerous nature of the man they had cornered.

          "Come on, squaw," Hank sneered, using the same slur he'd been given while in prison and the "property" of the two Indians who had abused him.  This was his chance to wipe those memories clean, and the ex-con wasn't going to squander it.  The fact that he had ended up in prison after raping a fourteen-year-old Pima girl never crossed his mind.

          Vin silently sized up the two men.  The one called "Daryl" was a follower, and more than a little scared of Tanner and what he might do if given the chance.  "Hank" was a different story.  The hate burning in his eyes was greater than any Vin had seen since he'd been nearly beaten to death by his foster father.

          Hank was dangerous, and Tanner knew he'd have to wait for the right opportunity before he tried an escape or he'd end up dead.  He couldn't remember the man's last name, but he remembered the face, and the crime that had gone with it.

          "That way," Hank said, jerking the gun to the north.

          Vin hesitated for a second, his mind on the knife hidden at the waist of his jeans.  If he could kill Hank, Daryl might be frightened enough to–

          Hank stepped forward and shoved the end of his rife barrel into Vin's stomach.  Tanner dropped to his knees, a wave of agony wrapping around his midsection as his injured ribs were squeezed under the constricting muscles.  The ex-con flipped the rifle over in his hands, holding the weapon by the barrel, and slammed the stock into the center of the back of Tanner's wounded calf.

          Vin couldn't stop the cry that tore free of his throat as he folded into a ball and dropped into the wet snow.  The cold moisture soaked his jeans and jacket, and he fought from choking as chills and heaves struck at the same time.

          "Get him on his feet," Hank snapped at Daryl, enjoying the spectacle of Tanner's pain.  It didn't make up for the many times he had ended up on his hands and knees while in prison, but it was a start.

          Daryl approached the fallen agent fearfully, finally reaching down to grab two handfuls of jacket, pulling Vin to his feet.

          The look in Vin's eyes made the man jerk his hands away like he'd been burned.

          "Walk, _squaw_ , or so help me, I'll gut shoot you right here," Hank growled.

          Vin turned and hobbled off in the direction the man pointed out, waiting for the opportunity to use his knife.  _An' when I do, it'll be with pleasure_ , he thought grimly.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The team found the tree where Vin had holed up for the night.  Chris disappeared under the boughs, emerging a few moments later carrying Vin's backpack.  He handed the pack to Nathan.

          "The first aid kit's been used," the medic announced a few moments later.

          "The radio's in here, too," JD added, having taken the pack from the medic and rummaged through it, "but it's just static."

          "Over here," Josiah called.

          They joined the big man on the other side of the tree where blood was splattered across the white snow and the signs of a struggle were clearly evident.

          "Whoever shot him must've found him," Buck commented, studying the ground and wishing he could read it like a paragraph in a text.  He thought it was two men, and Vin, but he wasn't sure.

          "They can't be more than ten or fifteen minutes ahead of us," JD offered.

          "Let's go," Larabee said, his stomach a solid knot of worry.  Vin was in danger, serious danger, and he wasn't sure they were going to be able to reach the man in time.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin was wheezing by the time he reached a small cabin, and lost in a swirl of disorienting pain.  His entire leg felt like it was on fire, and his chest burned with almost the same intensity.  But it was the pounding in his head that blocked out all the words Hank was shouting at him.

          The ex-con was watching Tanner struggle to stay on his feet.  The bounty hunter was a fighter, and Hank felt a tingle of triumph as he contemplated what it was going to feel like to destroy that will.  Reaching out, he grabbed Vin's hair, forcing the man's head back.  The move unbalanced the agent and Vin dropped to his knees in front of the man.

          Growling, refusing to submit, Tanner fought to stand again, but he was too weak to overcome the gloating man.

          "You're gonna die, squaw," Hank hissed.  "You're gonna die real slow.  I'm gonna take my huntin' knife and gut you, squaw.  You think you're tough?  You're gonna _beg_ me to shoot you before this is over."

          Hank laughed, and Daryl took a step away, not sure he wanted to be a part of the man's plans.

          "Go get my knife," Hank snapped at him.  "Now, damn it!"

          Daryl stumbled back a few steps, then turned and retreated into the small cabin.

          Vin's mind was racing.  He had to act now, while one of them was gone.  Hank solved his first problem – getting him back on his feet – when the man knotted his hands into Vin's jacket and yanked him up.

          "Can't you talk, squaw?" he snapped.  "You dumb or something?"  He struck Tanner's face, once, twice, three times, determined to make the man speak.

          Movement at the corner of his eye stalled the retort on Vin's tongue.  It was Chris.  He knew that with absolute certainty.  But Larabee was still too far away to help him.  He was on his own.

          The reality of the situation slipped away, lost in the pain of the injuries and the confusing chaos of months' worth of working and living in the city, trying to make a place for himself with Larabee and the others, fighting his fears and memories.

          And then Daryl was back, handing Hank a hunting knife, his face white with fear.  The ex-con took the long blade, his lips curling off his teeth in a snarling smile.  Jerking Vin's jacket open, he let his gaze drop to Tanner's midsection as his arms drew back to strike.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The team moved steadily through the recent snowfall.  In the distance an angry voice rolled through the trees.  The words reached them, intact, on the still air, the contents chilling Larabee more than the cold.

          "You're gonna die, squaw.  You're gonna die real slow.  I'm gonna take my huntin' knife and gut you, squaw.  You think you're tough?  You're gonna _beg_ me to shoot you before this is over."  A laugh rolled out after the words.  "Go get my knife.  _Now_ , damn it!"

          They pushed themselves to a run, pushing through the snow.

          Reaching the edge of a clearing where a small cabin sat, they froze, watching in horror as a large blond man handed a hunting knife to his companion.  The second man was holding Vin on his feet.  Tanner's face was bruised and bloody, his body swaying unsteadily.  The stranger yanked Vin's jacket open and his arm drew back, making it clear he intended to carry through on his threat.

          Chris was about to yell when Vin's voice slashed across the landscape – a war cry, as sharp as ice breaking.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin saw the blade change hands.  With a cry, he lifted his injured leg, driving his foot into Hank's abdomen like he was trying to ram it right out the other side.

          Hank fell back, knife flying into the snow.

          The team charged.

          Daryl took a hesitant step toward Vin, not sure what to do.

          Tanner, spinning on unsteady legs, growled as his eyes fixed on the other man's.  Hands snapping out, he trapped the man's face with one, his elbow colliding with the opposite temple.  Daryl dropped, Vin collapsing into the snow beside him with a grunt.  Only the agent's weakened condition saved both ex-cons from being killed in the attack.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The team quickly had the two men under their weapons, Nathan dropping down next to Vin.

          "He's alive," the medic announced.

          "Thank God," Chris said with the breath he'd been holding.

          Buck pulled out the radio he was carrying, contacting Carmell in the chopper, then nodded to JD.

          Dunne removed a flare gun from a holster on his web belt and fired off a shot.  It soared into the cloudy sky and exploded, sending out a spray of red above them.

          Josiah and Ezra, with Chris's help, lifted Vin to a seated position, the medic checking Tanner's pulse before starting an examination.

          Five minutes later JD reloaded the flare gun and fired off a second round.  This time the distant sound of an approaching chopper filled the air.

          "JD, Ezra, you stay with these two," Chris said, getting nods from the two men.  Then, with Josiah's help, he lifted the unconscious man.  Together they carried him to the center of the open terrain, holding him between them while they waited for the chopper to arrive.

          As the Huey moved over to hover above them, the blast of the rotor blades lifted the snow up and sent it flying like a sudden blizzard.  One of the Search and Rescue medics accompanied an aluminum litter to the ground.  He waited while Chris and Josiah maneuvered Vin inside the conveyance.  Nathan stepped up and hooked on a harness, riding up with Vin and the other medic.

          Once they were in the chopper, the other crewman tossed out ropes and Chris, Josiah, and Buck stepped up and secured themselves to be winched up.

          Chris stared at the underside of the helicopter on the ride, willing Vin to live.  Then hands were grabbing his arms and dragging him inside.  He crawled across the floor of the chopper, joining Nathan, who was trying, without success, to keep Tanner lying down in the litter.

          Vin's eyes were wide but unseeing, arms up in a defensive position, and teeth showing in a feral snarl of anger or pain.

          Larabee reached out and grabbed one of Tanner's arms.  How the man had even managed to sit up was a complete mystery to the blond.  "Vin," he snapped, afraid Tanner might injure himself further, or one of them, in his confusion.  "Vin, look at me!"

          It took a moment for the words to penetrate, but then the shaggy head turned and blue eyes locked on green.  Confusion and fight were replaced by recognition.  "Chris," he rasped.

          "Vin, lie down," Larabee said.  "You're safe now.  Let Nate do his work."

          The blue eyes went unfocused and Vin blinked, his brow wrinkling.  "Chris?  What 'n hell 're y' doin' here?" he slurred.

          "We were looking for you," Chris replied, getting hold of the man's shoulders, and trying to press him back into the litter, unsure if Vin could even hear him over the noise.  Feeling the man's strength beginning to ebb even as he resisted lying down, Chris scooted closer, letting Vin's shoulder lean against his own.  A violent shiver passed through the smaller man's body and his teeth began to chatter noisily.

          Buck joined them, holding out a wool blanket.  Chris leaned Vin forward and started to wrap the cloth around his shoulders only to be stopped by Nathan.

          "No," Jackson said.  "His clothes are too wet."

          "What?" Chris asked the medic.

          Buck maneuvered in behind Chris, speaking in his ear to overcome the noise. "Nate says he's too wet."

          "We have to get those clothes off him, get him warmed up before he goes hypothermic!" Nathan said loudly.

          The Search and Rescue medic nodded.  "We'll be in Rollinsville in twenty minutes, but this won't wait!"

          Larabee nodded his understanding, and he and Buck went to work, removing Vin's jacket, flannel shirt, and thermal undershirt while Nathan used the knife he found on Tanner's belt to cut the man's wet jeans off.

          Vin tried to help them, but he was shaking too much to coordinate his movements and finally gave up, allowing the others to do the work for him.  Watching Chris through slitted eyes, he noted the concern on the man's face and wished he had the energy to tell him not to worry.

          Buck gasped when he saw the large purple bruise on Vin's ribcage.  "Damn, Junior, that had to hurt!"  The various scars that were also revealed made them all acutely aware of the man's past profession.

          Nathan grunted, saying, "Looks like you might have cracked a few ribs there, Vin."  The sound of chattering teeth was his only reply.

          With his wet clothes off, Vin's shivering increased as they wrapped the wool blanket tightly around him.  Buck and Chris stripped off their parkas, draping them over Vin's chest and his back, then Larabee moved in behind Tanner, pulling the shaking man back against his chest, and wrapping his arms around him, careful not to put too much pressure on the injured ribs.

          Josiah and Nathan busied themselves rubbing down Vin's legs beneath the blankets, Buck working on the man's arms, all of them using friction to warm his extremities.  Vin gasped and yelped when one of them got too close to the bullet wound.

          "Hang in there, Cowboy," Chris said into Tanner's ear.  "We've come too far to lose you now, you hear me?  Besides, we're just getting used to having you around."

          Tanner grunted in reply.  He could hear the fear in Larabee's voice and understood all too well what the man wasn't saying.

          "How does he do it?" Nathan asked, shaking his head, although only Buck, who was kneeling next to him, was able to hear.

          "What?"

          "Where does he find the strength?"

          Buck smiled.  "Hell, Nate, when you've walked through hell as many times as he has, there isn't much left that'll kill a man."

          Nathan looked at Vin, realizing that he'd walked through a few hells of his own.  He nodded.  "Sometimes I forget he's older than he looks."

          Buck reached out and squeezed Jackson's shoulder.  "Don't worry, it's just a little exposure, a few cracked ribs, and a bullet in his leg.  He'll be back to work by the time the holidays are over.  You watch."

          Nathan nodded and silently prayed the ladies' man was right as he watched Vin slip back into unconsciousness.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**A short while later**

          A chopper landing near the sheriff's station in Rollinsville caused quite a stir in the small community.  People came out of the stores and their homes, lining the street as Josiah and Chris jumped out first.

          While Josiah arranged for the pilot to return to pick up the two men and Ezra and JD, Chris concentrated on finding the sheriff.  He flashed his ID and gave the man a hasty explanation for their unconventional landing site.

          Nathan and Buck carried the litter off with the Search and Rescue crew's help, Vin remaining unconscious.  Jackson demanded the location of the hospital.

          The sheriff blinked, not knowing who to respond to first.  ATF agents?  Murderers?  Hospitals?

          Buck saved him the trouble, grabbing a deputy and piling back into the chopper, Carmell lifting off before the sheriff could order his man to go along.

          Chris reached out and grabbed the lawman's arm.  "He asked you where the hospital was!"

          "We don't have a hospital, too small," he replied, still shaken by the sudden invasion of his peace and quiet.

          "What about a doctor?" Nathan asked, his fear climbing.

          The sheriff pointed to a small building on the opposite corner.  "That's the clinic, but Dr. Gables is in Nederland.  He won't be back until later today, maybe tomorrow, depending on the weather."

          "What do you do if someone gets hurt?" Nathan stormed, unwilling to believe they might lose Vin due to lack of medical aid.

          The sheriff turned to his deputy.  "Carl, go get Mrs. Spender and bring her to the clinic.  I'll go open it up."  He turned back to the others.  "Come on, let's get your man inside.  Nancy's a nurse; a good one.  She'll help you.  Maybe we can get Dr. Gables back for you, too."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Once inside the clinic, Nathan took over.  Having put himself through school as an emergency medical technician, his expertise was the closest thing to a doctor they had for the moment.  Jackson waited while Josiah rubbed the examination table down with alcohol, then draped it with a sterile sheet from the supply cabinet. After stripping the wool blanket off, he and Chris settled Vin on the table, covering him with fresh blankets that Josiah pulled off the four beds in the small clinic ward.

          Nathan was taking Vin's blood pressure when the door swung open to admit an older woman.  She gave the collection of worried faces a once over as she walked to the exam table.  Looking down at Tanner, she frowned at the man's ashen complexion.

          "Who's who?" she asked, glancing around at the others.

          "Nathan Jackson," the medic introduced himself.  "Chris Larabee, and Josiah Sanchez.  We're ATF out of Denver."

          She looked down at Vin, asking, "Friend or foe?"

          "Friend," Nathan replied.  "He's one of our team."

          Removing a set of keys from her pocket, Emma fumbled for one in particular, and then handed it to Josiah.  "There's a storage closet in the back with a couple of space heaters.  Go bring them in here."

          Josiah nodded and disappeared.

          "What's his B.P.?" she asked the medic.

          "Ninety-five over sixty," Nathan said.  "Pulse is one-ten and thready.  Respiration's twenty and shallow."

          The woman nodded, absently tucking a wayward strand of sliver hair behind her ear.  Chris couldn't help but smile thinly.  She looked like the archetype for gingerbread-baking, sweet-tempered grandmothers.

          Reaching under the blankets, she found Vin's arm and pulled out his hand to check his nail beds.  With a satisfied nod she returned his arm to the warmth under the blankets.

          Josiah arrived with the heaters and she directed him to set the taller one at the foot of the table, and to slide the long, low model under it.  He did, and turned them on.

          Vin's shivering dropped off quickly, but he continued to tremble occasionally under the blankets, although as the heaters continued to warm the air, that too finally subsided.

          With a short series of directions, the old nurse had Nathan establish a double IV.  That done, she nodded to the medic to help her as she checked the graze on Tanner's head, then folded back the blankets to start at the man's neck and begin a thorough examination from the top down.  When she finished she headed for one of the cabinets.

          "First we get the easy ones cleaned up, then we tackle the hard ones," she announced.

          "What can we do?" Chris asked softly, hating the feeling that he was merely in the way.

          The older woman looked over her shoulder.  "Why don't one of you go across the street to Marylee's and get us all some coffee."

          Josiah looked at Larabee.  "You stay."

          Chris nodded and the big man headed out of the clinic.

          "And you two can help me," she concluded, speaking to Nathan and Chris.  "My arthritis won't let me work like I used to, but it can't take the knowledge away, so I'll tell you what to do, and you'll do it – deal?"

          The two agents nodded and Chris reevaluated his first impression of the woman.  She might look like a kindly grandmother, but she acted and sounded more like a DI and he wondered if she had served.

          Removing a bottle of antiseptic, she handed it to Chris.  "You clean that scalp wound, then we'll wrap it up.  He might have a mild concussion, so go grab another pillow and stick it under his head to get it elevated a little more."

          She leveled her gaze on Nathan, her green eyes softening slightly.  "You can move the portable x-ray machine over here for me so we can take a look at his skull and those ribs, make sure nothing's broken.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Well, that's a piece of good news," the old woman said, smiling at the developed x-rays.  "No skull fractures and just two cracked ribs, no breaks there either – lucky man."

          "Uh, excuse me, Mrs. Spender, is it?" Larabee asked her.

          "Yes, but why don't you call me Nan."

          Chris smiled.  "All right, Nan.  I'm done here."

          She walked over to Vin and helped Chris as he covered the graze and wrapped more than enough gauze around it to keep the dressing in place.

          Josiah knocked on the door, then stepped inside to drop off the coffee, explaining that he was going to go see the sheriff and wait for Buck, Ezra, and JD to get back.

          Nancy accepted one of the cups and took a long sip.  "Ah, that hits the spot. Now, on to the rest of this, gentlemen."

          Returning to the unconscious man, she directed Nathan to lift the blankets off his legs.  She probed the swollen ankle first.  "Nathan, dear, bring the x-ray over and get a picture of the ankle as it is now.  I'm almost sure it's just a nasty sprain, but there's no use taking any chances.  Young man, I'll need your help back here," she told Larabee.

          Chris smiled at the description.

          While Jackson set up and took the x-ray, Mrs. Spender led Chris to the back room.  She pointed to a surgical bundle on one shelf in the opened closet.  "Take that, and wheel that cart out while you're at it."

          "Yes, ma'am," he said.

          The old woman chuckled.  "I haven't heard _that_ in a few years."

          "Excuse me, what's that, Mrs. Spender?  Uh, Nan?"

          "'Ma'am.'  I was an Army nurse, started back during Vietnam, when I was too young to know better, and just stuck with it."

          Larabee smiled.  "I have to admit, I was wondering if you were ex-military."

          "Oh?"

          "Most of us were in the service at one time or another.  Let's just say that the way you took control reminded me a little of a few DIs I've met.  A lot, actually."

          She smiled, returning to the grandmother image.  "I see.  Well, I'll take that as a compliment," she said as they walked the equipment back to the treatment room.

          "It was meant as one," Chris replied.  "Really."

          She smiled, then her face wrinkled as she tried to capture a fleeting memory.

          "Sounds like you've had an impressive career," Larabee said as they rejoined Nathan, who was developing the ankle x-ray.

          "Yes, I guess I did.  I retired a full colonel several years ago, married an old high school sweetheart who was a widower, and we've had ourselves a quiet retirement here, until now."

          "Well, we certainly would've preferred not to interrupt your holidays like this," Chris told her.

          "The ankle looks good," Nathan announced, holding up the film.

          "No interruption, Mr. Larabee."  She looked at the X-ray.  "True enough, Nathan.  We'll immobilize it, and then there's just one more thing left to do."

          "The bullet," the medic agreed, nodding.

          "It has to come out, and we need to irrigate that wound to reduce the infection.  My fingers aren't up to that kind of work, I'm afraid."  She looked Nathan squarely in the eye.  "Are you up to it, son?"

          He nodded.  "I'm not a doctor, but I've patched these guys up enough times to stay in pretty good practice."

          Nancy rested a hand on Jackson's shoulder.  "Why did I think you might say that?"

          Nathan grinned back at her.

          Handing the medic a cup of coffee, she motioned to him to drink it.  "I know this won't be easy.  It never is when it's someone we care about, but you'll do just fine.  So, drink up, get warm, and then we'll get that leg cleaned up.  We don't want the infection to get too far ahead of us."

          "Yes, ma'am."

          Emma smiled and patted his shoulder again.  "Mr. Larabee, we'll need your help as well."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          It took a half-hour to prepare and twenty minutes to complete the procedure, and Chris was thrilled when the surgery was over.  While Nathan had been able to focus on the task at hand, detaching his work from the body he was doing it on, Larabee hadn't been so lucky.  He had been put to use holding Vin still while Nathan worked, Mrs. Spender helping Jackson by keeping the area free of blood and delivering calm, straightforward instructions each step of the way.

          Only two sounds filled the room while they worked – Tanner's breathing and the old woman's steady voice.  Vin awoke almost as soon as Nathan had begun, but was able to hold himself still for the most part, thanks to a local anesthetic that deadened the pain, but natural reflexes gave Chris plenty to do, and he exerted a great deal of energy to keep Vin as immobile as the old nurse demanded.

          When they were finished, Nancy wiped the sweat from Vin's face and waited for Nathan to tell her the man's new vital signs.

          "B.P. is 110 over 90, pulse 100, but stronger, and respiration's 24."  He looked down at Vin, who had opened his eyes.  "You hang in there.  You're going to be just fine."  Then he looked over at Chris and said, "If you don't mind, I'd like to grab a bite to eat.  I hate to admit it, but I'm feeling a little shaky."

          "Go ahead," Chris told him with a grateful, if thin, smile.

          Vin reached up, catching the medic's arm before Nathan could turn away, but his attention was focused on the old woman.  "Thanks, Nate," he breathed airily.

          Jackson grinned down at him.  Vin was going to be fine, thank God.  "You're welcome, but just wait 'til you see how I stitched my initials into your leg.  It's a real work of art.  The others are going to be jealous."

          Vin finally blinked and rolled his head to the side, looking up at Nathan.  "Ah hell, Nate, why'd y' go an' do somethin' like that?"

          "It's a reminder," Nathan said sternly, but the twinkle in his eyes gave his real feelings away, "so you'll stay out of trouble the next time."

          Nancy nodded at him when Vin turned back to study her face.  "Antibiotics will fight the infection now, and the electrolytes will help you feel better.  I'll have the Sheriff contact Dr. Gables so he can bring some more blood back from Nederland.  The rest is up to you, son," she told him.  She looked over at Chris, adding, "I don't think this will slow him down too much."  Then she smiled and laughed softly.  "Ah, _now_ I remember…"

          "What?" Chris asked her as Nathan stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

          A spark of recognition flared in Vin's eyes as well when she looked back down at him.

          "You do too, don't you, Sergeant Tanner?" Nancy asked softly.

          Vin nodded, a small, crooked smile lifting the pain off his face for a moment.

          She reached out and patted his cheek.  "Get some rest, dear."

          Vin's eyes closed and within seconds he was sleeping.

          "Do you know Vin?" Chris asked her, surprised.

          Nancy nodded.  "I met him several years ago, not long before I retired.  He was in the Army then, not the ATF."

          "Airborne Rangers," Chris said, watching as Nathan crossed the street to get something to eat.  He was hungry, too, but he didn't want to leave Vin just yet.

          "Yes," the old woman nodded.  "He was a young sergeant, just back from a covert operation in a place I can't mention."  Her voice dropped as she became caught up in the memories.  "It was close to Christmas, as I recall, and we'd been seeing a lot of activity.  Casualties were high, even if they were never mentioned on the evening news."  She walked over to the only chair in the room and sat down, taking a sip of her now-cold coffee.

          Chris slid down to sit on the floor, his back pressed up against the cabinets.

          "Our field hospital had been going straight for close to twenty-four hours.  We managed to save most of them, but thanks to budget cutbacks and retention issues, there weren't enough nurses to sit with the dying _and_ work on the ones we could save."

          She set the cup aside and gave Chris a shaky smile.  "For a few hours it felt like I was back in Vietnam again.  That was the worst…  But I was going to tell you about a particular young sergeant I met, wasn't I?"

          Larabee nodded.  "If you don't mind."  He glanced over at the sleeping man. "Vin doesn't talk much about his past.  I get the impression it wasn't very good, and he'd rather put as much of it behind him as he can."

          "Well, we got word that two squads had been caught in an ambush and they were bringing them to us.  By the time they arrived, four were already dead.  We looked the others over and two went in to wait for the next available surgeon; the rest waited for a nurse since they were ambulatory.  But there were two others past our ability to help… and then there was one last young man.  I asked him if he was hurt and he shook his head.  He was trying so hard to be brave, but I could see the fear in his eyes."

          "Vin?" Chris asked softly, glancing from the old woman to the sleeping man.

          She nodded.  "He followed me straight into the triage tent.  I tried to throw him out, but he said he had to see one of the men from his unit.  He knew why those last two hadn't been take in and, to be honest, I was just too tired to argue with him.

          "He went over to his squad members and sat with them, talking to them, until they were gone.  He held their hands, listened to what they wanted him to write to their parents or wives, and I believe he carried out those requests."

          "I'm sure he did," Chris said softly.  Vin was as loyal as they came, once he let someone into his heart.  It was getting inside that seemed to be the trick.  How he'd managed it so easily, he wasn't sure, but he knew he had.

          "After they died, he stayed.  We were getting another wave of wounded in and everyone was dead on their feet, but he never faltered.  When I didn't have the energy to stand any longer, he helped me to a chair and found me some coffee, somehow.

          "He was so young, so very, very young, a child, really, and I remember watching him, wanting to cry because no one that young should have to do or see the kinds of things he was, but I couldn't, I just couldn't.  It was selfish, I know, but I was so relieved that I wasn't alone at that moment I just couldn't cry.  That's when I knew it was time to start thinking about retirement."

          Nancy pushed a single tear off her daintily-wrinkled cheek.  "When it was over, I found out he'd taken a piece of shrapnel to the lower back, just above his hip.  He must have been in agony, but he never said a word, never made any move that gave away his injury.  We never would've known about it at all if he hadn't passed out in the mess tent."

          Chris shook his head and grinned.  "That sounds like Vin all right.  I can see why you remembered him," he added, his tone affectionate.  "A man like that would be hard to forget."

          Nancy smiled.  "Oh, but you've only heard half the story."

          She fell silent when a knock sounded on the door and Josiah leaned in, announcing, "Sorry to interrupt, but I thought you could use some fresh coffee."  He handed over the two cups and said to Chris, "The others are back with the bastards who did this.  Carmell had to take off; there's a front coming in."

          "Thanks," Chris said.  When he saw the older man look worriedly at Vin he added, "He's doing fine.  Tell the others he'll be fine.  Nathan's getting a bite to eat; why don't the rest of you do the same."

          Josiah nodded and left.

          "What happened next?" Chris asked her when they were alone again.

          "Well, he had a two-day stay with us that first time, and then returned to his unit.  I never expected to see that young sergeant again, but I did, just about a year later.

          "We had plenty of wounded crossing our surgical tables that year as well.  We received word that a Ranger unit had gotten pinned down coming back from a mission.  They were taking fire and others were going in to pull them out.

          "We didn't know exactly what to expect, so we did what we always did and prepared for the worst.  My people were ready when they arrived.  None of us could believe our eyes when I saw those boys _climbing_ off the choppers under their own power.  We were watching a miracle, and the soldiers looked as shocked as we were.  I kept hearing: 'The sergeant did it,' or 'He got us out, just like he said he would.'

          "You have to understand, it really _was_ a miracle.  Oh, they had injuries, but they were _ambulatory_.  I counted seventeen, which left three unaccounted for.  At first I thought they must be KIAs still in the chopper, but then two of our medics pulled out a man, laid him on a gurney, and rolled him to the surgery.  That left two.  And that's when I saw my scrappy little sergeant again."

          Nancy stood and walked over to Vin.  She felt his cheek for fever, but his skin was still cool.  She smiled down at the sleeping man, then returned to her seat, took a sip of the fresh coffee, and continued.  "He was holding a boy who was no more than eighteen.  He and the medics maneuvered the boy onto a second gurney, but Sergeant Tanner didn't move away.  I didn't think much of it at first.  They headed for the surgery and I yelled at him to get out of the way so my people could work.

          "The look in his eyes is something I've never forgotten.  That injured boy was just like the ones he'd sat with while they'd died – same age, same innocence and potential lost to death.  In the attack, a mortar had torn this boy's throat open and severed the vein.  Sergeant Tanner had reached in and was holding the vein closed, which was all that had kept the boy from bleeding to death.  If he'd let go when I'd yelled at him, that child would've died on the gurney.

          "He was sure I was going to classify the corporal as 'no-hope,' and the pain in his eyes shook me like an earthquake.  So, we went into surgery – me, the corporal, and Sergeant Tanner…  When they got a clamp on the vein I took him back out, where he thanked me for giving him a chance."  She laughed sadly, shaking her head.  " _He_ gave that boy a chance, but, sadly, it wasn't enough.  There was brain damage and Corporal Adam Silverstein died on the table, but it wasn't because he'd bled to death."

          "How did Vin take the news?" Chris asked her, already knowing the answer.

          "I found him in our little makeshift chapel.  I think he knew Corporal Silverstein was going to die.  He told me Adam was Jewish and asked me if his God would mind if he said a prayer for him.  I said no, that I didn't think God minded, and that seemed to satisfy him.  He said his prayer, then saluted my eagles and walked out.  That was the last time I saw him, until today.  It looks like he's done well for himself."

          Chris nodded.  "He's found his place."

          "Good," the old woman replied, "we all need a place to belong, especially this time of year, especially someone with a heart as dear as that."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Dr. Gables still looked slightly green from the chopper ride as he checked the drip on Vin's IV, and then stepped out of the treatment room to talk to the people waiting for him.

          "It looks like he's going to be fine.  I knew Nancy would be able to handle this, and I really didn't want to leave Mrs. Johnson's newborn until I was sure he wasn't going to have any respiratory problems.  He was underweight and—"

          "When can we take him home?" Chris asked anxiously, cutting the man off.

          "Oh, tomorrow, I'd say.  He should see his own doctor as soon as possible, and he'll need to stay on antibiotics for another ten days."

          Buck smiled and clapped Larabee on the back.  "See, he'll be home for Christmas, didn't I tell you?"

          "Best medicine in the world," Mrs. Spender said.  "You boys take good care of him, or I'll come down there and give you what for."

          "Don't worry, ma'am, we will," Nathan assured her.  "Whether or not he appreciates it."

          "Oh, and he wanted to see someone named Chris?" the doctor added.

          Larabee stepped forward.  "That's me."

          "Keep it to ten minutes if you would.  I'd like him to get as much rest as possible before he leaves."

          Larabee nodded and slipped into the room.  Emerging a few minutes later he wore a half-suppressed smile on his face.

          "What is it?" Buck asked him.

          "Vin just asked me for a favor."

          "A favor?" JD questioned.

          "Yeah, go find a bagful of pine cones."

          The agents burst into laughter.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Five days later, Christmas Eve**

          Vin sat in the office, his leg elevated on a small stool JD had managed to locate somewhere in the building.  He had finished his report on the incident for Travis, and was trying, without much luck, to concentrate on the backlog of paperwork that had somehow built up on his desk until it was time to leave for Larabee's.

          A soft knock on the corner of his desktop interrupted his latest battle with the computer.  "Yeah.  What?" he snapped, wishing he didn't feel so damned tired, or snappish.

          JD was standing next to him.

          His voice immediately softened.  "Sorry, kid.  What c'n I do fer ya?"

          "It's almost time to go," Dunne started, obviously trying to work up to something more important.

          Vin nodded, completely confused.  "Yeah, okay," he said, looking back at the computer, beginning to log out and shut it down.

          JD chewed his lip for a moment before he asked, "Vin, are you mad at us?"

          Tanner sat back, startled by the question.

          Buck, on his way out of the cantina to drive Vin and JD out to Chris's for dinner – giving Larabee time to pick up one of the sharpshooter's last gifts – stopped short of the door when he heard JD's question.

          "JD, what the hell 're y' talkin' about?" came Vin's troubled reply.

          Dunne sank down in the chair across the desk from Tanner.

          Buck weighed his ethical duty to leave the pair to speak in private against the need to understand better what had been bothering Vin since they'd brought him home from Rollinsville.  He stayed put and listened.

          "Why would y' think 'm mad at ya?" Tanner asked gently.

          "Not at me, not exactly," JD replied, his pent-up frustration already spent. Now he was a little frightened.  "Not just at me, anyway, all of us."

          "I don't understand," Tanner said flatly.

          Dunne sighed.  "Ever since you got back, you've been quiet, withdrawn, even when you were out at Chris's ranch, working on the tree and stuff."

          Vin looked taken aback.  "Uh, I've been thinkin'," he explained, but it sounded lame, even to his own ears.  He sighed heavily.  "Ah hell, JD, this time a' year has always been tough fer me; guess I've been lettin' it get t' me more 'n usual an' I've been tryin' t' think it all through."

          "That's it?  You've just been thinking?"

          Vin cleared his throat.  It was obvious he was holding something back and Buck wondered if he'd open up and tell JD what it was.

          "Yep.  It's easier fer me t' sort things out when 'm alone, so I guess that's why I ain't been good company.  But I ain't mad at any a' ya."

          Okay, that was an honest answer, but it still didn't tell him anything.  _Press him, JD_ , Buck encouraged and crossed his fingers.

          "What've you been thinkin' about?" Dunne questioned and Buck silently cheered youthful curiosity.

          Vin paused, clearly debating how much he wanted say to the agent.  "This time of year… what happened up on that mountain…  I guess it all kinda brought back a lot a' memories."  He stopped, searching for the right words.  "It made me do a lot 'a thinkin' 'bout the past, 'bout who I am, an' if 'm the right man fer the job here."

          Buck almost gave himself away with a sharp intake of breath, but was saved by JD's near shout.  "What?  Vin, you're the best sniper I've ever seen!"

          Wilmington heard Vin rise and knew the sharpshooter had taken up a position leaning back against the edge of his desk, looking down at JD, his arms probably folded over his chest.

          "Don't worry, 'm not leavin', kid."

          _Thank God for that_ , Buck said silently.  Why had it even crossed Vin's mind at all?  _I'm definitely going to have to talk to him about this_.

          "Y' see," Vin said softly, using what the ladies' man had come to think of as the man's storyteller's voice, "while I was up on that mountain, waitin' fer y' t' come get me… I saw this sign."

          "Sign?" JD echoed.

          _Good, JD, keep it up_ , Buck silently instructed the younger man.

          "Yeah, uh, I know it sounds kinda weird, but the Indians believe that ever' animal carries in its spirit a certain kind 'a power.  They call it their medicine; I was visited by Deer."

          "A real deer?"

          _Exactly my question_.

          "Yeah, a doe," Vin replied.  "I think she gave my position away."

          "What kind of, uh, medicine does a deer have?" Dunne asked, the confusion in his voice echoing that in Wilmington's mind.

          "Gentleness… an' unconditional love."

          JD shifted, grappling with the still confusing information.  "And that sign made what you were thinking about harder?"

          _Yeah, Vin, help us out here and answer that one, would ya?_

          Tanner chuckled softly, the warm, rich sound startling the ladies' man; he heard it so rarely.

          "No.  I've just been tryin' t' decide what she was tryin' t' teach me."

          "And did you figure it out?"

          "Don't know, I think so…"  He trailed off.

          Buck decided it was time to interrupt before any of the others arrived, wondering why it was taking him so long to bring Tanner down to the garage and head out for dinner.  He did _not_ want to get caught eavesdropping.  But then Tanner started speaking again.

          "All m' life, the people I've cared 'bout most have… been taken away from me – m' mother, grandfather… the guys in m' Ranger unit.  I think I was gettin' scared that I was startin' t' care too much fer y'all, so I's gonna loose ya; guess it comes down t' bein' scared."

          JD nodded.  "I know what you mean.  I mean, I feel like that too sometimes, but I haven't lost as many people as you have.  But sometimes it scares me when I think about someone on the team getting hurt or killed, but I think the friendship we have right now is better than being alone, don't you?"

          "Yeah, kid, I do.  Just took a mountain comin' down on me t' see it."

          _Me, too_ , Buck thought, then, taking a deep breath, he stepped into the room, stopped, and stretched.  "Man, I can't believe I fell asleep in there," he complained.

          "You're lucky you woke up," JD said.  "We're gonna be late as it is."

          Buck checked his watch.  "Oh, damn."  He glanced at Vin.  "You're comin' with us to Chris's, right?"

          JD was already up, handing Vin the cane he was supposed to use while his leg healed.  "Yep," he replied, turning and laying the cane on his desk and hobbling off towards the door.

          "Good," Buck said, taking a couple of steps to catch up.  He reached out, resting his hand on Vin's back as kept walking.  "It's Christmas Eve and a family should be together."

          Vin offered him a thin smile and nodded.  "Yep."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Later that evening**

          Dinner was Josiah's special lamb recipe, cooked in beer, and it was a huge success.  When he'd first arrived, Vin had been quiet and withdrawn, but as the meal wore on he seemed to relax – more than he had in several weeks – as if he'd found some inner peace at last.

          Chris watched the man carefully as they rose from the table, each carrying a cup of coffee.  They retired to the elaborately decorated living room.  Vin was still limping, but it wasn't as bad as it had been the last few days.

          Light from the blaze burning in the fireplace and the decorated Christmas tree cast the only illumination in the large room.  Vin took a seat on the floor in front of the fireplace, resting his injured leg where the heat could help ease away some of the stiffness.

          Chris took a seat in the recliner closest to the man, while JD and Buck flopped down at the ends of one couch, Josiah and Nathan doing the same with the second sofa.  Ezra took the other recliner, immediately leaning back and lifting the foot rest so he could stretch out.

          "That was an absolutely wonderful feast, Mr. Sanchez," Ezra complimented.

          "That's for sure," Nathan agreed, patting his belly.

          "Thank you, thank you," Josiah said, smiling benevolently at the group with his best fatherly expression.  He bent over and picked up an old, well-worn case he had left at the end of the couch.  From it he took an autoharp.  Everyone, including Vin, leaned forward slightly.

          "I thought it might be nice if we sang a few Christmas carols before handing out an Eve present.  Then we can all go off to our beds and wait for ol' Saint Nick to pay us a visit."

          "Awesome," JD enthused, causing the others to laugh.  "What?" he asked, unsure if he should be mad or not.

          "Nothing, kid," Buck said, giving his leg a slap.  "We just enjoy remembering when we were that excited about Christmas."

          "That's right," Nathan agreed.  "It was like magic."

          "Still is, if you have any spirit," Dunne defended himself.

          Chris saw the fleeting pain cross Vin's face and knew that Tanner's memories might not be so magical.  But he had every intention of making this Christmas one to remember.  "What did you have in mind, Josiah?" he asked the big man.

          Sanchez leaned back and began strumming the instrument softly.

          " _Noel_ , right?" Buck guessed correctly, grinning proudly.

          Josiah nodded and began to play in earnest, the others' voices rising to join his as they worked their way through the twelve days of Christmas, blessed the merry gentlemen, followed the three kings, recited the first noel and jingled bells for over an hour.  After the first few songs, they each found their voice and the music grew rich and well textured.

          Vin remained silent, but listened with a smile in his eyes.  It was informative and he discovered that Nathan and Chris were both mid-range baritones, and that Ezra's clear tenor added an occasional ad-libbed note.  Buck and JD paralleled each other in clear tenor tones, and Josiah, no surprise, was a baritone.

          A myriad of suggestions flew from the group and never stumped Josiah's fingers, the older man moving smoothly from one song to the next.

          Ezra grinned broadly as he suggested, " _Deck the Halls_ if you would, Mr. Sanchez."

          The former priest nodded, but before he could begin, Vin pushed himself to his feet, saying, "'Scuse me."  They watched him go, the room falling into a tight silence.

          "What do you think's wrong?" JD whispered.

          "He'll be back," Chris said, hoping his words sounded more sure than he actually felt.

          Josiah strummed the strings of the instrument and they began the song, although it wasn't nearly as full of gusto as the others had been.

          Chris sang along, unsure if he was mad or worried, but both emotions faded when the song ended and Vin stepped back into the living room carrying a well-worn guitar case.  Larabee smiled.  He'd completely forgotten about the instrument. Vin had brought it over one night not long after he'd started with Team Seven, explaining that he didn't feel comfortable leaving it at his apartment, which was in a less than stellar section of town.  Chris had invited him to store it in the guest room closet and it had stayed there ever since.  He hadn't even been sure Vin knew how to play the thing.

          No one spoke as Vin hobbled back to the fireplace, sat down and then added a log to the dying fire.  Then he opened the case and pulled the instrument into his lap.

          "You play the guitar?" JD asked, his voice full of surprise.

          "Ain't done it much in a while, so y'all will have t' bear with me."

          "Well, well, well," Buck said softly, catching Chris's gaze.  He winked.

          Larabee grinned back at the ladies' man.  Their sharpshooter was full of surprises.  "What do you want to try?" Chris asked him.

          Vin looked up at Josiah.  "D' y' know _I Will Lead You Home?_ " he asked the older man.

          Josiah thought for a moment, his forehead wrinkling, then he flashed a toothy smile and started to strum the autoharp.  The deeper tones of the guitar joined in and, after a few stumbles, smoothed out into a steady river of sound.

          The older man began to sing, the others listening to unfamiliar words that they found resonated deep within them.

 

                   _Are you far away from home, this dark and lonely night_

_Tell me what best would help, to ease your mind_

_Someone to give direction for this unfamiliar road_

_Or one who says, "Follow me and I will lead you home."_

_How beautiful, how precious_

_The Savior of old_

_To love so completely the loneliest soul_

_How gently, how tenderly_

_He says to one and all_

_"Child you can follow me and_

_I will lead you home._

_Trust Me and follow Me_

_And I will lead you home." **[1]**_

 

          When they finished, Vin smiled.  "You do it real nice, J'siah."

          "That was quite lovely," Ezra agreed softly, afraid to break the mood that had settled over them like spun glass.

          "Yeah, really nice," JD agreed, nodding.

          "Where'd you learn that, Vin?" Nathan asked the man.

          The sniper cleared his throat, a blush climbing up to his cheeks from under his shirt.  "Picked up a couple of CDs after Halloween and it was on one of 'em is all."

          "Something else you'd like to do?" Josiah asked the sharpshooter.

          Vin strummed the first few chords for a song, then began to sing, his voice a slightly hesitant top-range baritone.  A short while later, Josiah joined him.

 

                   _The garment of life be it tattered or torn,_

_The cloak of a soldier is weathered and worn,_

_But what child was this that was poverty born,_

_The peace of Christmas day._

_The branch that bears the bright holly,_

_The dove that rests in yonder tree,_

_The light that shines for all to see,_

_The peace of Christmas day._

_A hope that has slumbered for two thousand years,_

_A promise that silenced a thousand fears,_

_A faith that has trammeled an ocean of tears,_

_The peace of Christmas day._

_The branch that bears the bright holly,_

_The dove that rests in yonder tree,_

_The light that shines for all to see,_

_The peace of Christmas day._

_Add all the grief a people may bear,_

_The total of strife, and the trouble and care,_

_Then put them in columns and leave them right there,_

_The peace of Christmas day._

_The branch that bears the bright holly,_

_The dove that rests in yonder tree,_

_The light that shines for all to see,_

_The peace of Christmas day. **[2]**_

 

          "That on one of those CDs, too?" JD asked Vin.

          "Uh, no, not 'xactly."

          "I don't recognize that one," Nathan said.  "But it was real pretty."

          "Yes, it was.  Where is it from?" Ezra asked Tanner.

          "Think I'll take the Fifth on that."

          "Aw, come on, Vin, it can't be _that_ bad," Buck cajoled.

          "He's right," Chris added.  "Let us in on the secret."

          Vin sighed heavily.  He had known he was going to be in for this when he went for the guitar.  "All right, I'll tell y', but on one condition."

          "And what's that?" Buck asked, winking at JD.

          "That y' never mention it again."  When all the heads had nodded, he explained, "The last Christmas I had with m' grandpa, we went t' visit a friend 'a his an' she had three grandkids 'bout m' age.  They had this new Christmas album, an' was playin' it over and over again.  That song was one of the ones on it.  I play guitar by ear so I guess I just kinda picked it up," he concluded with a shrug.

          "What album was it?" JD asked him.  "Maybe we can get a CD copy to play at the office.  Be nice to have some new songs."

          Vin cringed and sighed again, louder, his blush getting darker.  "We don't need a copy 'a this one, kid."

          "Which one was it?" Buck asked, getting a little frustrated.

          "John Denver and the Muppets," Vin muttered.

          "The what?  The _Muppets?_ " Nathan asked, breaking into a huge smile.

          "No comments, r'member?" Tanner countered, glaring at the medic.

          The others all laughed, but they didn't tease him any further.  They'd have plenty of chances for that later on – after they found a copy of the CD.

          JD launched them into a rousing rendition of Rudolph, and when they finished, Vin cleared his throat to catch their attention.  Six pairs of eyes turned to stare affectionately at him and he blushed slightly.

          "Have another song I'd like t' do.  Don't know if any 'a y' know it.  I heard when I was in the Army, but I heard it first on that Muppet record," he added softly.

          The others all smiled.

          "What is it called?" Josiah asked him.

          " _When the River Meets the Sea_."

          "I think that's a spiritual actually, not a carol," Josiah told him.  "But go ahead, brother," he encouraged softly, seeing the younger man hesitate.

          After the first few words, the hesitancy dropped away and Vin entered the song, voice and guitar growing stronger.

 

_When the Mountain touches the valley,_

_All the clouds are taught t' fly,_

_As our souls will leave this land most peacefully._

_Though our minds be filled with questions,_

_In our hearts we'll understand,_

_When the river meets the sea._

_Like a flower that has blossomed,_

_In the dry an' barren sand,_

_We are born an' born again most gracefully._

_Thus the winds a' time will take us,_

_With a sure an' steady hand,_

_Where the river meets the sea._

_Patience, m' brothers, an' patience, m' friends._

_In that sweet an' final hour_

_Truth an' justice will be done._

_Like a baby when it is sleepin',_

_In its lovin' mother's arms,_

_What a newborn baby dreams is a mystery._

_But his life will find a purpose,_

_An' in time he'll understand_

_When the river meets the sea,_

_When the river meets, the almighty sea. **[3]**_

 

          When he finished, he let the last chord die away before looking up again.  Chris leaned forward, patting him on the shoulder.  "Thank you."

          Vin smiled and nodded, dipping his head.  "Ain't nothin'."

          Josiah picked up with _Silent Night_ and this time Vin joined in with the rest of them.

          Later, when their voices were rough from overuse, Josiah set the autoharp back into its case, then stood and walked over to the tree.  Bending down, he pulled out a bright red bag full of individually-wrapped gifts and walked back to the others. He handed out one present to each of his friends.

          The men tore into their gifts, finding small but meaningful things that they had all desired sometime over the course of the past year.  They all thanked the former priest, and then the guests stood, said their good-nights and headed home, knowing that they would be meeting back at the ranch again in the morning to watch the football games, open more presents, enjoy more good food, and each others' company.  Rain, Nettie and Casey would also be joining them, and Mary, Billy, and Orin planned to drop by as well.

          Chris, Josiah, and Vin were the only ones left when Tanner finally looked up from the small box he held, blue eyes swimming with tears.  "J'siah," he breathed, "how'd—"

          The big man nodded to Larabee, letting him know the gift had really come from Chris, then left, flashing a grin back at Larabee.

          Vin was on his feet again when the blond got back to the living room.  "Hey, you're not going anywhere," he reminded the sharpshooter.

          "Chris, this necklace—"

          "Just enjoy it, Vin," the blond said softly.  "I'll tell you how I got it tomorrow, but you look exhausted.  Go get some sleep."

          Vin nodded numbly and limped off to the guest room, the gift clutched tightly in his fist.  Chris watched him go, humbled by the depth of the gratitude he'd seen in the man's expressive blue eyes.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Larabee sighed, rolled over, and looked at the digital clock.  He shook his head.  It was just after midnight.  He lay there for a moment, wondering if he'd really heard sleigh bells outside, then shook his head and snorted at his imagination. The only sound that reached him now was that of someone moving around in the living room.

          Rising, Chris pulled on his sweats before going down to see why Vin was also having trouble sleeping.

          He found the man seated on the sofa, his gaze searching the dying orange embers, his fist still curled tightly shut.  "You know, Santa won't stop if he sees you're still up," he said softly.

          Vin's head turned.  "Gave up on Santa Claus long time ago…"  He paused a moment, then added softly.  "He wouldn't bring m' mama back."

          The honest, open reply caught Larabee unprepared.  "How old were you, Vin, when she died?"

          "Just turned five couple 'a months before, but that was a long, long time ago.  Hard t' r'member what she looked like now, but I c'n still r'member what her voice sounded like.  She had a purty singin' voice."

          "What happened after she died?" Chris asked him, dropping down on the other corner of the couch.

          "Went t' live with m' grandpa – her daddy."

          "But he died too?"

          "Yep, just b'fore Christmas when I was eleven… both of 'em, right b'fore Christmas."

          "Damn, that had to be hard," Chris said.  "But you have family again now, you do know that, don't you?" he asked, turning the conversation back to what he hoped was something safe.

          "Yeah, I know."  Vin looked down at his hand, his fingers uncurling.  He stared at the gift, then carefully held up the small, gold heart locket, letting it dangle from its thin gold chain.  The locket was open, and inside was a tiny picture of a smiling, toothless infant on one side, and a small boy with the same smile on the other.  "Chris, how'd you get this?" he whispered, his throat too tight to speak any louder.

          Larabee arched an eyebrow at the man.  "What makes you–?"

          "Chris.  Please?"

          The blond sighed and nodded.  This wasn't something to be joked about.  "You remember that trip I made to Amarillo a couple of months ago, to talk to Kevin Reynolds?"

          "Yeah, right before Halloween."

          Chris nodded.  "While I was there, I rented a car and drove over to Clayton, New Mexico."

          Tanner's blue eyes rounded with surprise.  "Why?" he asked.  "Why'd y' go t' the little town where I's raised?"

          Larabee leaned back and stared into the flames.  "I don't know," he said honestly.  "I guess I just wanted to see where you came from.  Your file didn't tell me much, and you never talk about your past…"

          "Hell, Chris, I don't even r'member the place.  I's born in Dalhart, Texas, but then we moved to Clayton somewheres along the way.  After Mama died I went up to Bosie City, in Oklahoma, to live with Grandpa, but he took me back t' Dalhart. I ended up down in Amarillo after he died.  But that still don't tell me how y' got this."

          "I was walking around Clayton, just getting the feel of the place.  There was a pawn shop and I saw some old coins in the window.  I went in to see what else they might have.

          "The man who owns the place was real friendly.  He was cleaning some jewelry while we were talking about the coins.  It caught my eye because Sarah had one similar to it.  She kept Adam's baby pictures in it.  I opened it and saw the pictures, and I knew it was you."

          "Ya couldn't know this was me.  Don't look nothing like me."

          "Same smile."

          "Come on, Chris, how'd y' know it was my mother's?"

          "I'm telling you the truth.  I saw the pictures and knew it was you.  And who else would be carrying around your baby pictures in a gold heart locket?"

          Vin snorted and dipped his head.  "Good point."

          "I thought she'd want you to have it, so I bought it.  I think she'd want you to have these, too."  Chris pushed to his feet and walked over to the mantle where an envelope sat.  He handed it to Vin.

          "What's this?" he asked Chris.

          "Open it."

          "Chris—"

          "Just do it."

          Vin slipped his finger under the corner of the flap and pulled it open.  Inside he found three small black and white pictures of his mother when she was younger, probably no more than fifteen or sixteen.  "How–?" he rasped, his fingers running lightly over the images like he was touching her for the first time in years.

          "The pawn shop owner went to school with your mother," he explained.  "After I explained why I wanted the necklace, who I thought it had belonged to, he disappeared into the back and came back with those pictures; said he'd had a terrible crush on her when they were in school, but then she'd dropped out and disappeared.  The next time he saw her, she had a young son and she needed money…"

          "She pawned the necklace?" Vin asked, surprised and a little hurt.

          Chris nodded.  "He told me it wasn't really worth anything, but he took it anyway because he knew she needed the money, to take her son to the doctor, and to give him a little Christmas."

          Vin bowed his head.  "We's both real sick that last Christmas.  Doctor thought it might be pneumonia.  Mine was, but her's weren't.  I r'member she bought me a little plastic horse, a bay, with a cowboy that fit on its back.  We had ham for Christmas supper – best meal I c'n r'member eatin'."

          "I'll bet," Larabee said softly.

          Vin lifted his head, meeting Larabee's eyes.  "Thank you, Chris.  This means more t' me than I c'n say."

          "You don't have to say anything, Vin.  I'm just glad I was there to see it."

          Vin nodded.  "My grandpa told me once that ever' mountain has a lesson t' teach us, if we're willing t' listen.  I listened up there, Chris.  I listened, an' I learned."

          "And what was the lesson?" Larabee asked.

          "Acceptance… healin'…"  His voice dropped.  "I do have a family again, an' I cain't run from that, cain't be so afraid of losin' it, that I don't let m' self have it, that make any sense?"

          "Yes," Chris said respectfully, aware of the rare vulnerability Vin was showing.

          "Ya lost so much.  I cain't imagine," he replied softly.  "Sometimes the only way t' chase the fear off is t' accept an' love that part that's fearful."

          "You're afraid?"

          "Ain't we all?"

          "That's not what I meant."

          "Let's just say I had some things I needed t' face, t' remember, like r'memberin' the good times, the love an' friendship, an' not the loss."

          "It's a damned hard lesson to learn," Chris said quietly, nodding.  "And now?"

          "Now?  Hell, now I think you're asking too damn many questions fer this time a' night."

          Chris smiled.  It was a start.  There was still too much about this man he didn't know.  But little by little, Vin was opening up to him, to all of them.  Maybe, just maybe, one day they would be able to help each other over their nightmares.  He hoped they could, knew in some part of his soul that they would.

          "You're a remarkable man, Vin Tanner."

          The sharpshooter shook his head.  "'M just a man."

          "Not _just_ a man."  Larabee stood, offering his hand to Vin, who grabbed his forearm instead, allowing Chris to help him to his feet.  "You're my friend."

          Tanner nodded once, his grip tightening for a moment.  Then he let go and took a step back, looking down at the pictures in his hand.  "Wish y' could've met her… wish I could've met Sarah and Adam, too."

          "Me, too," Chris replied.  "On both counts."

          And together they headed for their beds.

          "Merry Christmas, Vin."

          "Merry Christmas, Cowboy."

          In the hallway they parted, each heading to his room, when the faint sound of sleigh bells echoed out of the night.  They turned in unison, staring at each other in the dim light.

          "Did y' hear that?" Vin whispered, his expression like that of a small boy.

          "Hear what?" Chris asked, trying to hide his smile.

          The man's expression returned to its usual stoic mask, but there was still a touch of magic twinkling in the blue eyes.  "Never mind, must be more tired 'n I realized.  G'night."

          "Good night, Vin.  Sleep well."  Chris watched the man limp off with a smile on his lips.

          Returning to his own bedroom, Larabee lay down again, wondering just how long Vin would remain awake, listening for eight tiny reindeer landing on the roof and knew it would probably be as long as he did himself, and then he realized that he was actually looking forward to Christmas morning for the first time since he'd lost his family and knew it was because he'd inherited another.

  


* * *

[1]  "Christmas Lullaby (I Will Lead You Home)" written by Amy Grant and Chris Eaton, performed by Amy Grant on her Christmas album _A Christmas to Remember_.

[2]  "The Peace Carol" arranged by Bob Beers, performed by John Denver on _John Denver and the Muppets: A Christmas Together_.

[3] "Where the River Meets the Sea" arranged by Bob Beers, performed by John Denver on _John Denver and the Muppets: A Christmas Together_.


End file.
